


Where The Fallout Lies

by skeletondust



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossover, MCR/FOB crossover, The Young Blood Chronicles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 41,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletondust/pseuds/skeletondust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~BUT I BELIEVE WE'RE THE ENEMY~</p><p>The Fabulous Four weren't anticipating the fact that they might have to go rescue their new allies.<br/>The Young Bloods weren't anticipating being kidnapped and tortured and brainwashed and killed by some crazy women.<br/>No one was anticipating the shit they'd get into in this battle between the Killjoys and the mysterious women.<br/>And it was all because of some stupid suitcase.</p><p>(Note: Abandoned)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too Damn Hot

Chapter 1: Too Damn Hot

  
The one day that it was too hot to go outside was, of course, the one day they had nothing to do inside. Nothing to clean, nothing to can, nothing to make, nothing to fix up for somebody willing to pay- except for that car out in their make-shift garage that Ghoul had decided was a good idea to work on in the blistering heat.

Party Poison sighed, shuffling his cards back into a deck. He had figured that playing solitaire would distract him from his boredom, but he was absolutely shit at it, and that just made the situation worse. He set the deck down and wandered over to the table Kobra Kid and Jet Star were sitting at, across from each other but completely ignoring each other. Jet was fiddling with some sort of device, probably an old vend-a-hack, while Kobra was cutting up a magazine with a pair of rusty scissors. They were just as bored as he was, it seemed.

“Where's the radio?” Party asked, sitting down next to his brother. Dr. D might be, and the old friends shows were always a welcome distraction.

“Ghoul has it,” Kobra replied flatly, keeping his eyes intently on the picture he was trying to cut out.

Party groaned. “He knows the heat is totally gonna warp the battery, right?”

“I told him that, and that we don't have the money for a new battery, but he said he needed background noise,” Jet said, only looking up for a moment to send his friends a small smile. “He'll be back in soon, I'm sure. Even the infamous Fun Ghoul can't survive in one hundred thirty degree heat.”

Party rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to groan for a second time. Seriously, Ghoul was a complete idiot. If he wanted background noise, why didn't he just take the old cassette player? They could pretty easily live without that, since there was another installed in the trans-am. The jackass always had to take their good equipment to places they could get wrecked.

The leader of the four snapped out of his irritated, heat-amplified thoughts when Kobra groaned loudly and dropped the scissors and magazine on the table, adding unneeded force to the drop. He briefly looked at Jet, who shook his head, before turning to his brother and raised a quizzical brow. The often poker-faced man had a small look of annoyance and disgust on his face. He looked at his older brother and then gestured to the magazine. There was a tiny, miniscule cut going into the City actresses face, one that could be easy ignored. But, to Kobra, it was a big deal.

“Kiddo, you won't even be able to tell it's there if you paste the thing onto paper,” Party said.

“No. It's ruined,” The younger insisted.

Party shook his head at his brother, knowing it was useless to try to convince him otherwise.

After the small outburst, they fell back into a bored silence. Jet returned to his vend-a-hack, Kobra started cutting out other pictures, and Party just sat in the seat, arms crossed, waiting for something to happen.

Just when he felt like he was about to explode from his frustration over intense boredom, a very sweaty looking Fun Ghoul shoved open the diner door with his foot and marched inside. He kicked the door closed again, making the old metal frame rattle, and plodded over to the table everyone else was sitting at. Party watched him with an amused smirk, but frowned again when the other practically tossed the radio onto the table.

“What, so warping the battery isn't enough? Ya gotta break the damn thing entirely?” He was only half-teasing. It was too hot to be completely joking.

“I didn't warp the battery! Jeez,” Ghoul said, out of breath. He sat down next to Jet. “Why is it like, thirty-something degrees cooler in here?”

“Because you fixed the fans, and it's literally hell outside right now,” Kobra replied, his voice back to its normal, oddly sassy flatness.

“Well, I needed to get a start on that car.”

“No you didn't,” Party said, leaning towards the sweaty man. “Don't go outside when it's dead hot out. We don't have enough water to properly cure dehydration right now.”

Same old, stubborn Fun Ghoul. The man rolled his eyes, and sat back in seat, obviously annoyed. Party smirked and snickered at him, which resulted in a scowl from the other.

“I thought you were pissed over the radio.”

“I get over grudges fast.” Party smiled. Ghoul's irritated expression didn't falter. After a few more moments, Party started to cross his eyes. Ghoul chuckled, and shook his head at the other, getting up.  
“Getting some water?”

“Duh. Turn on the radio!”

The red-haired man grabbed the radio and turned it around to face him. He leaned down so he could actually see the numbers and letters on the knobs- he needed glasses, but those were impossible to get out in the zones- and ignored the hair that fell in front of his eyes. He pulled out the antenna, flipped the device on, and started fiddling with the knobs. Static and snatches of voices and songs filled the air around him. He stuck his tongue out in his concentration on finding the right channel. He party even looked up when Ghoul loudly placed a glass with a small amount of water in it on the table. It took a few minutes, but Party finally got the radio on the right channel, and everyone perked up at the sound of clear, if not slightly static-y, music. He smiled triumphantly.

As soon as the song ended, a man started talking. His voice had even more static to it than the song had. “Alright, motorbabies, that was the ever-loved 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' by the classic grunge band from before the wars, Nirvana, a band especially hated by the city.”

“Dr. D sure has been playing a lot of music that the city hates,” Jet said, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Jet, he always plays music the city hates. He literally only plays music the city hates,” Ghoul replied.

Jet Star shrugged.

“Now, I got special message comin' from Zone Three about rising killjoy-stars that are being called 'The Young Bloods' by some of the local neutrals.”

Party had only been giving the broadcast half of his attention, as he was reviewing what he thought were the lyrics to the song that had just ended in his head, but when he heard 'rising killjoy-stars', the radio immediately had his full and undivided attention. 'Killjoy', 'rising', and 'stars' often ended with a negative connotation, as a lot of newer bands of killjoys had a bad habit of getting themselves into trouble, and even ghosted on occasion. It was exactly what their cause didn't need at the moment, and he wanted to know more about these new kids before anything bad went down.

“These boys are setting themselves up a reputation for helping the helpless and saving the almost lifeless, with all their antics in stopping a small troop of draculoids from shooting up a neutral town and ghosting every last zonerunner and crash-queen in the area. They've got themselves up from lonely little tumbleweeds, blowin' through the zones, to happy little cacti with their roots stuck under the hot desert sun in a matter on months.”

Months? Party breathed a small sigh of relief. Most of the gangs that rose to fame often did it in a couple of weeks, and only lasted a few more before the trouble came. As far as he could assume, these guys were being careful, and only got recognition for acting out of the average decency to protect those that needed it.

“The Young Bloods have a small thrift shop out near the town of Bristle in Zone numero tres. Dracs and bandits better watch out, 'cause these kids aren't letting anybody harm anyone.”

“We have to go meet them!” Party declared, drowning out the radio with the volume of his voice.

“Why?” Ghoul asked, tone somehow cynical. He didn't seem to like the prospect of going back outside. Well, that was his own problem. He chose to go out in the first place.

“We need more allies,” The leader put simply. “These ki- these guys sound like they're trying to do help out, ya know? Not like those other groups, or gangs. They sound like decent fighters, too. We could use allies like that.”

Without another word, Party walked out of the diner. He tied his bandanna around his mouth and nose before getting in the trans-am driver seat. He pushed on his sunglasses, and gave the others a minute or two to come outside. He really didn't like sitting in the heat while waiting for their lazy asses to get moving, but whatever. He had made a decision, and he needed the other guys on board. He knew they would join him, though, because when the infamous Party Poison made a decision, it was generally final.

Kobra was the first to come out of the car. He had his helmet on, the visor reading 'good luck' pulled down. He got into the front seat and pushed the visor up to look at his older brother, who simply raised a brow at him. Party chuckled, knowing how much Kobra hated dust. Jet followed soon after, tugging along a tired Grace, who had just woken from a nap. She climbed into the back seat and sat in the middle, leaving the right side open for Ghoul, when he showed up.

“Where we goin', Party?” She asked, her voice groggy.

“Zone three. We're meeting some new 'joys! Sound fun?” He kept his tone friendly and happy for the sake of the little girl.

“Yeah, that sounds cool.”

He smiled at the little girl through the mirror, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it because of the bandanna and the sunglasses. He watched as she snuggled up to Jet, finding it just a little too adorable.

Ghoul threw himself into the back seat just when Kobra looked like he was going to start complaining, and possibly drag the younger man's ass out to the car.

“Alright! To Zone Three we go!” Party said, excited. It wasn't every day he got to meet new killjoys. “Put on your bandannas, because the windows are staying down.”

It took a minute to get the trans-am out of the sand- Party yelled at Ghoul for parking it there, telling him it was bad for the axles, and he was the mechanic, he had to know that! Once they were on the road, though, it was smooth sailing.

While Jet and Ghoul talked to each other and with Grace the entire ride, Party stayed silent. Hopefully, the others just assumed he was focusing on the road and ignoring the heat, but really he was thinking about these so-called 'Young Bloods'. They sounded pretty neat, with the way Dr. D was talking about them on the radio, but that could've just been DJ-speak. While he did feel confident that they couldn't be too bad if it had taken them months to rise through the metaphorical ranks, one never could be too careful. He didn't know what to except of them, and he didn't know what to think just yet. He didn't want to judge too quickly, either.

Party was pretty excited for potential new allies, but he was also nervous for potential new enemies.


	2. The Young Bloods

Chapter 2: The Young Bloods

  
The trans-am pulled up to the surprisingly well-kept building, parking in a less sandy area just a few yards away. It was smaller than the diner, but had significantly less wooden boards nailed to it, and less shoddy fixing jobs. It was actually pretty impressive, at least to Party.

Without a word, Party walked towards the building, trailed by the others. He carefully opened the front door and poked his head inside before stepping in. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and pulled his bandanna down, looking around the small shop with curious eyes. He held the door open behind him until he felt one of the others take it. He watched Grace dart into the store. It was a small place, crowded by shelves and tables filled to the brim with a variety of different things- both needed and unneeded by those in the zones. The floor was surprisingly void of sand and dust, and everything seemed to be clean, to an extwnt. The walls were splattered with paint and posters from all over the zones and pulled out of magazines, advertising and showing off shows, other shops, and bands. Overall, it was a nice thrift shop.

Party wandered down the labyrinth-like rows for a few minutes, and the others browsed, before a voice piped up from somewhere near the back.

“Hi there!” A small man with reddish-brown hair and glasses called out. “Welcome to the Grenade Jumper thrift shop! Need help finding anything?” He smiled at the crew.

Party smiled back and made his way towards the man, Kobra beating him to it.

“Hi,” the leader greeted, smiling politely at the surprisingly short man.

“Hey, wait, you're Party Poison, aren't you?” The man cut him off before he even had a chance to think of what to say. Party looked at his brother, who just shrugged. It wasn't unusual for people to recognize them. He turned back to him and nodded. “Holy smokes!”

“Are you one of the Young Bloods?” Kobra asked, his tone as flat, but with a serious undertone to it.

“That I am. My name's Truant Soul.” He offered his hand. Party and Kobra each shook it in turn. “So, what brings you guys to our shop?”

“Well, we wanted to meet you, actually,” Party admitted with a sheepish grin. “We heard Dr. D's radio broadcast about you guys and your shop, so we thought we'd come check it out.”

“Make sure you aren't idiots,” Kobra added. Party elbowed him in the ribs, which didn't even cause the younger to flinch.

“Ya like that?”

Party paused, confused for a second as to who Truant Soul was talking to, but then realized he was looking behind them. He turned and saw Ghoul holding a bandanna with a stars-and-stripes pattern on it.

“Yeah, it's pretty cool,” He said casually, looking between Truant and his friends.

“Well, you can have it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!”

“How many carbons?”

“None.”

“Seriously?”

Truant laughed. “Yeah, seriously! We've had that bandanna forever, I'd be glad to see it in good hands.”

“Good, I needed a new one,” Ghoul said as he tied it around his neck. Party couldn't help but smirk.

Turning back to Truant, the two started up a conversation- mostly about the shop, because he was a bit afraid to ask about their killjoy dealings. It seemed a bit rude to do that, without the other members of the group with them. He glanced over at Kobra as the skinny man started to slink off, seemingly interested in some of the old magazines the shop had. Truant cut himself out of the conversation for a moment to inform Kobra of the old copies of Murder Magazine they have, and Party saw his brother smile, and start digging for the zines.

The leader of the four was already liking Truant Soul so far, just from the way he seemed to know what people liked, and how kind and polite he was. If just one of them was this great, then he couldn't imagine what the others were like.

“I hear customers!” A voice rang out.

All heads turned towards a darker skinned- similar to Jet Star- and short man, who was coming out of a room behind the counter. The man was smiling, but the smile dropped as he froze in the doorway. Party opened his mouth to say hello to him, as he seemed a bit frightened or confused, but was quickly cut off.

“Holy shit!” The man exclaimed.

Truant chuckled and rolled his eyes, turning around to face who was probably his friend.

“Nice to see you out of the darkness, Photon,” the similarly short man greeted.

“Holy shit!” He replied.

Another man, slightly taller, but only by about an inch, appeared behind the man apparently named Photon. The visible parts of his skin, excluding his face, were covered in colored tattoos. Party gaped at this, and Ghoul- who had showed up next to him at some point- breathed is awe.

“Photon, please move,” He asked, his voice higher pitched than one would expect.

The dark haired man snapped out of his amazed stupor and stepped out of the way. “Sorry, Edge,” He said, making an 'oops' face. The other man, Edge, smiled vaguely at the group now gathered around the counter, and stood near Truant. Truant turned away from Photon and faced the others.

“Sorry about him,” Truant said, shrugging a shoulder towards the man behind him

“Yeah, he's weird,” Edge added in.

“Are the Fabulous Four seriously in our shop?” Photon squeezed himself in between the other two.

“I mean, yeah,” Truant replied, raising a brow at the other.

“This is so cool!”

Party chuckled. He was used to people being amazed or horrified at meeting them, but it never ceased to be amusing and flattering.

“Pretty cool to meet you guys too,” Jet added in before Party had a chance, making him to frown in his general direction.

“Wait, you actually know who we are?” Photon seemed completely in shock.

“Yeah, we heard that promo thing on Dr. D's broadcast,” Party said with a nod. He was getting the impression that this guy was a bit hyper.

“Ooooh, right. The commercial.” Photon nodded his head, and then paused as something seemed to dawn on him. Truant raised a brow, and then caught on as well.

“I should probably introduce you guys!” He chuckled a bit. “This is Polar Photon and Anarchy Edge. Ruby Star is in the back, working on something right now.”

Party made an effort to ingrain in his mind that the tattooed one was Anarchy Edge and the hyper one was Polar Photon. He nodded his head at the introductions. He was starting to form questions in his mind, trying to determine what they needed to know about The Young Bloods to see if they were good allies, or people to avoid. Just from the way they were acting, they seemed like good allies, but he wasn't about to jump to any conclusions.

“Hey, Star!” Photon shouted towards the back. Kobra jumped a little, dropping the zine in his hand. Party smirked and shook his head, while Ghoul laughed. Kobra sneered at the shorter man.

A curly haired man, with tattoos on his arms like Edge as well as Photon, Party noted, came out from the back. He looked like he had been frightened out of his thoughts like Kobra had just been, with his blue eyes wide.

“What? What is it? Did somebody steal something again?” He rambled before pausing. “Oh. Hey!” He smiled and waved at the 'joys.

“This is Ruby Star,” Truant said.

Ruby Star chuckled lowly. “Pretty lame name compared to yours, huh?” He scratched his neck a bit sheepishly.

“No way, man! It's pretty rad,” Ghoul insisted.

“Yeah! Now we've got two stars!” Jet added, and laughed, getting the rest of them to all giggle a bit.

Party was starting to feel awkward, just standing their, as Jet, Ghoul, and the others started to talk, and Kobra started to flip through the zines again. He needed to ask questions, and he should be doing the talking, dammit! Ghoul always did that, took over the situation. Fortunately, though, that gave the leader time to think everything over and come up with good plans, making him look like he actually knew what he was doing. In the end, Fun Ghoul's annoying talking habit ended up working out for both of them, and gave Party an air of mysteriousness that he didn't actually possess.

While thinking over what questions were appropriate to ask in his evaluation and what weren't, Party started to look around, just with his eyes. He noticed a ton of little things, like how Photon seemed to calm down after a while, how Edge remained quiet most of the time and smiled shyly at the others often, and how Ruby Star made Kobra laugh- a feat few strangers achieved, as his little brother grew shy around new people. The thing that he noticed that interested him the most, though, was the small tattoo of a crown on the skin between Truant's thumb and index finger on his right hand. The edges of it were straight, but looked like they had been gone over several times, giving it a rough, punk-ish kind of look. Party wondered where he had gotten it, and why he had gotten it. It contrasted greatly with the other three's full double arm sleeves, as it was the only visible tattoo on the man's skin.

“Hey, Truant?” Party asked. The smaller man turned his attention towards him, easily breaking away from the conversation he was barely a part of. “Pretty cool tattoo ya got there.”

“Oh!” He lifted up his hand to look at the crown for a second, and smiled at the red haired man. “Thanks!”

“What's it mean?”

“Huh?” He stared at him blankly.

“I mean, uh,” Party cleared his throat, inadvertently getting Kobra's attention. “Usually people get tattoos because they mean something to them. Does yours mean anything? I kinda guess it would mean a lot, since it's the only one you have.” He shrugged.

“Oh, yeah, i-it's a long story,” Truant shrugged as well, in response.

Party nodded, dropping the subject. Personal stories should remain personal, if that's what the other so wished. Kobra snickered at his brothers previous awkwardness and Party shot him a glare, before turning back to Truant.

“Ya know, we don't really know much about you.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Wanna learn about your allies, huh?” Star said, pulling away from whatever he had been discussing with Ghoul and Jet. Edge looked over, too, and Party noticed he had been talking to Grace.

He nodded. “Yep. Always good to know who you might be fighting to the death with.”

Everyone at least chuckled, making party smile, somewhat proudly. He wasn't very good at jokes, and was happy with anyone he actually managed to make.

“Um, uh,” Truant muttered, scratching the back of his head. “We've been out here for a few years, be we didn't reach any sort of killjoy status until a few months ago, when we helped out that town.”

“Yeah, Dr. D talked about that, right?” Photon asked.

“I think so.” Ghoul shrugged.

“Well, it was when people started thinking we were pretty useful. Like, they gave us our names. Some old lady called us 'young bloods' and it kinda stuck.” Truant pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“We came up with our own name names, though,” Star added. “It took Photon the longest. He's indecisive, sometimes.”

“Am not,” Photon mumbled and elbowed Star.

“Alright, alright,” Party chuckled. “What led you guys out here?”

“Ya know, the usual stuff,” Photon shrugged with a single shoulder. “Realized BL/ind was bullshit, decided to run for it.”

From the look on all of their faces, Party could tell they were holding something back. But, he supposed, it wasn't any of their business. Everyone had their reasons for leaving the city, and if it were too painful for them to recount, then they could keep it to themselves. He wasn't going to pry unless it was needed, and it didn't seem needed, right then.

The Fabulous Four and The Young Bloods talked over everything- morals, beliefs over what the killjoy stood for, interests, talents, skills, and so on. As it turned out, they ran their shop to make carbons to stay alive, as they felt it was wrong to take money from the people they helped, the same way Fun Ghoul acted as a mechanic and Jet Star sold herbs that he grew and gathered, and how Party Poison and Kobra Kid did odd-jobs and helped piece together zines. It had taken them months to gather up all the things they needed to open, but they'd been running for a year and a half now, and were still growing strong. People loved buying second and third rate things, especially when they couldn't afford or even access anything better. Not only did they run a thrift shop, but they also ran a gun shop behind the scenes. Polar Photon and Anarchy Edge repaired laser guns, while Truant Soul and Ruby Star custom designed them, for those willing to pay for it. All in all, it was a nice business they ran.  
Party only ceased talking when he noticed how tired Grace looked. He looked out the window, and saw that the sun was starting to set.

“Ah, guys, we should probably be leaving if we wanna get back before dark,” He warned.

“Aw, c'mon, Party!” Ghoul whined. “We just started talking about guitars!”

Kobra rolled his eyes and stood next to his brother. “Grace needs to sleep, and so do we.”

Ghoul sighed, but didn't argue.

Party turned towards the men he had decided were their new allies. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“It was great to meet you!” Photon hadn't lost any energy.

After their goodbyes, and Grace's whining attempt to get them to stay despite her obvious exhaustion- heat took a definite toll on the little girl- they walked back out to the trans-am, this time Fun Ghoul taking the wheel.

“I like them!” A sleepy Grace announced, curled up against Jet Star in the back.

“Me too, Gracey,” Party agreed.

“They're definitely people we'd want as our allies. Good folk,” Kobra concurred.

“Good, because I already decided that we're allies and I told Truant while we were talking.” Party smirked at the mirror.

Ghoul shook his head in unison with Jet Star. “Sneaky bastard,” Ghoul muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took me longer to write than a thought.  
> Well, anyway, here's the second chapter! I hope it's better than the first. It'll get even better as the story goes on. Beginnings tend to be a little bit bland, I've found. Maybe this isn't even bland?  
> Any constructive criticism? I'd appreciate it.


	3. The Suitcase

Chapter 3: The Suitcase

  
Anarchy Edge slipped into the back of the shop quietly, not wanting to wake up the others until it was necessary. Which, he supposed, had to be soon. It was early in the morning and the sun wasn't up yet, not even peaking over the horizon. He placed the silver suitcase he had been carrying onto a table after he cleared off the miscellaneous gun parts, making sure to be careful with it. According to the woman who had given it to him, the case's contents were very fragile. He didn't want to risk breaking anything and not finishing the job.

He went and shook each of his friends awake, telling them to meet him out in their make-shift workshop when they felt a little less drowsy. Polar Photon was the first one out, giving him a confused look, to which he just shrugged. A few seconds later, Ruby Star walked over to the table, his brown curls tied back in a bun. It was a while before Truant Soul plodded into the room. Edge felt bad for waking up the small man, as he generally needed more sleep than the rest of them to function properly, but this was important.

“Edge, could you please explain why we're awake?” Photon asked. He didn't sound like he was missing out on much sleep, but he did sound irritated.

He gestured to the suitcase. “That's why.”

“A suitcase?” Star asked skeptically. Edge nodded.

“Wha?” Truant managed to say, before a yawn. He rubbed at his eyes.

With a small, apologetic smile, Edge grabbed Truant's glasses off of his workbench and handed them to him. The tired man gave him a small smile and almost stabbed himself in the eye before getting the corrective lenses on. He blinked a few times, adjusting.

Edge moved back to his place in front of the suitcase, and, with a pang of nervousness as to what the hell could be in this thing that's so damn important, clicked the clips and opened it. Truant seemed to wake up then, his eyes going wide with worry. Photon looked similar, except his eyebrows were scrunched up, and he must have been thinking. Star had his hands on the back of his head, and he looked excited.

“Oh my god, that's gotta be worth a lot of carbons!” The curly haired man exclaimed.

“H-how the hell did you get that!?” Truant stammered.

“A blonde woman promised she'd give us one-hundred and fifty carbons if we brought it to another woman in zone one for her,” Edge explained.

“Wait, so, she wants you to transport a state-of-the-art, brand new, not-even-given-to-dracs-yet BL/ind-issue ray gun to some chick in zone one?” Photon had his arms crossed in concern as he asked the question. Edge nodded.

“And you took it because?” Truant was calm again, but still worried.

“We need the carbons.”

Star tilted his head and shrugged in agreement, because they really did need more money. Business was in a bit of slump, as people couldn't be bothered to leave their homes in the recent heat wave. They needed to buy food, somehow. Edge had been taking on odd-jobs in an attempt to help. They didn't pay very much, so the second he had heard from the blonde woman about this offer, he had taken it. He chose his words carefully as he explained this to the others.

Truant nodded his head, understanding, but continuing to remain worried. Edge assumed that he was just fearful of what could come from having something like this in their hands. It was expensive, and had probably been stolen from one of the BL/ind factories, and being hunted down.

They were silent for several moments, looking between each other, before Star broke the silence. “So who's gonna bring it to zone one?”

“Zone one's close to the city, and we're probably on their radars, at this point,” Truant pointed it. “It would be dangerous.”

“Well, if they even have pictures of us- besides the old ones, but I doubt they've figured out our identities yet. If they have new pictures, they'd be of us in our masks, mostly, just like the Fabulous Four. If whoever goes goes in casual wear, you probably won't get noticed,” Edge said.

“That's a good point.” Truant let out a breath, and scratched the back of his head.

“Aaaaand we do need the money!” Photon reminded them.

“Alright, since I'm apparently the leader, I'll go,” Truant offered.

“Are you sure you want to?” Edge asked cautiously.

Truant nodded. “Yeah. I'm the least likely to get spotted, since I definitely look the least suspicious.”

Photon snorted, but didn't disagree. Edge smirked. It was pretty hard not to look suspicious in zone one, a place with barely any killjoy influence, when you were covered in tattoos like the three of them were.

They decided, in the end, that Truant was going to bring the suitcase and collect the money, while Edge was going to drive him there and then back to the shop, but he would keep a safe distance from the town he had been told the woman would be in. Star was going to go check out the Fabulous Four's diner, as he had wanted to talk to them more, anyway. Photon was going to stay in the shop and help any customers that came in. As they were finishing the discussion, the sun was beginning to rise.

“We should probably go if we want to get there and back before noon,” Edge said to Truant, who nodded.

“Yeah. Then we could go to the market and buy some preserves and non-perishables in the afternoon.” He was always thinking ahead.  
Edge smiled as they disbanded. He walked out to his and Photon's shared car, the only other one they had, and were fortunate to own. Few people even had one that functioned. Truant trailed behind him, the suitcase in hand.

Just before he and Truant were going to get in the car, it hit Edge that he had forgotten something.

“Oh!” He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and tossed them at the startled-looking man across from him. “Handcuff yourself to the suitcase. The blonde woman said it's safer, and that the other woman will have the key to unlock them.”

Truant quirked a curious brow. “Dude, that's pretty sketchy.”

“So's Photon's zine collection,” He replied, and got into the driver's seat. He waited for Truant to get it and lock of the handcuffs, one on the handle of the case and one around his wrist, before driving off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than the others, but only because it felt right to cut it off there.  
> Two updates in one week! Yeah! I should be studying for finals.


	4. Paranoia in Zone One

Chapter 4: Paranoia in Zone One

  
The drive to zone one took longer than Truant would have preferred. He didn't actually know how long the ride had taken, but his nerves were acting up and making time stretch slowly. He wasn't about to admit it, because he had agreed to this, but he was terrified. Just being near zone one made him jumpy, but now he had to actually walk through a town there- albeit a neutral one- and he didn't have even the vaguest clue as to what was going to happen.

Truant sighed, and started running over what he was supposed to do in his head again as they approached the town. Walk to the shop with a sign that said 'Barley' in faded letters, find the Japanese woman nearby, and she'll take the suitcase. Easy peasy, right?

Ignoring the concerned look from Edge, Truant got out of the car, pulling the suitcase he was handcuffed to out with him. He stared at the town they stood on the edge of and slammed the door shut. There wasn't a reason to be nervous. They were going to get one hundred and fifty carbons for this. No one was going to hurt him. He was getting the money they needed by doing this.

“Be careful,” Edge reminded him, as if he actually needed to be. He smiled over at him, and Truant forced a small smile on his face in response.

Without another word, the handle of the suitcase tight in his right hand, he began his walk into the town. It was quiet, making the atmosphere a little creepy when it was combined with run-down look of the houses and buildings that slowly started to gather in amount. He supposed they weren't less or more rundown than any other building out in any of the zones, but it was still eery. A few people were out, going about their business in the morning before it got too hot, but they remained just as quiet as the rest of the town. This really wasn't helping Truant's growing paranoia.

With his anxiety only increasing, Truant made sure to glance over his shoulder every now-and-then. Not enough to raise suspicion, he hoped, but only enough to make him look like your average, paranoid zone-runner. Which, he thought, was somewhat true.

He tripped at least three times on the poorly made wooden sidewalks, mostly because he wasn't paying attention to where his feet were stepping, too busy looking for the right sign. People gave him wary glances whenever he tripped, but he ignored them.

Truant was nearing a corner when he saw a kid, maybe eleven or twelve, riding a bike on the packed down dirt that everyone agreed was a road. It was weird sight. A kid, a relatively clean kid, on a bike with proper tires for riding on dirt roads and that didn't have any rust on it, at all, from what he could see. But really, was it that weird? They were in zone one. Nobody here was actually against the city, so they probably were able to get better supplies and a few luxuries. Or maybe the kid's father, or whoever took care of him, knew how to fix up a bike.

He smiled politely when he realized he was staring, not wanting to seem like a creep, and waved with his free hand. The kid smiled back, but it was strange and somewhat scary smile, like he knew something was going to happen that Truant didn't know. The killjoy faltered in his steps, his smile and hand dropping. He turned his head away as the kid passed by, and tried not to think about how freaky this place wa-

Before he was able to finish his thoughts, electricity crackled through his side, along with an awful shock of pain, burning pain, and he dropped to his knees. Black spots started swimming in front of his vision, until something blocked out his vision entirely. He finally figured out that there was a bag of some sort over his head, but then he was being dragged across the ground.

Shit. He was being kidnapped. He was right to have been paranoid.

Truant struggled and fought, but whoever had him was tying his hand together. The suitcase slammed against his stomach and he gasped, but he wasn't able to take in a full breath before the electricity and pain shot up through his side again, making him shake and tingle, and making his brain go foggy. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears, and he couldn't tell if they had stopped tasing him yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and kinda sucks, but it's the best I can do with it. It's finals week and I wanted to post one more chapter before the stress started getting too real.  
> Also, I'm going to Hawaii on Friday and will be gone for nine days. I'm not sure if I'll have internet access while I'm there, but I have two ten-hour flights(one there and one back), so I'll do a lot of writing in an attempt to distract myself from the fact that I'll be thousands of feet above the ground. I might post several chapters at once when I get back!  
> Comments are appreciated, btw. :)


	5. Meat Cleaver

Chapter 5: Meat Cleaver

  
A buzzing pain resonated throughout his body, though some parts of him- mainly his right hand- were numbed. Truant a throbbing in both of his wrists and both of his ankles, pumping with each beat of his heart. The pain was uncomfortable, barely ignorable, and was preventing him from falling back asleep.

Wait, why was he sleeping? And was he sitting up? Shouldn't he- oh, right. Suitcase. Creepy kid. Tased. Kidnapped. The memories came back to him in a flood, making him cringe and twitch in his half-awake state.

After a few moments of thinking, and of stifling his fear the best he could, Truant managed to crack open his heavy eyelids. Everything was blurred. He blinked a few times, before realizing that he didn't have his glasses on. He tried to pull his hand, the one that wasn't numb, up to his face just to be 100% sure, but something was holding it down. He looked over at the strap that was tied tightly around his wrist, and tried to move his hand again. It wouldn't move. Neither would his other hand, or his feet. So, that was why they were all throbbing painfully. The straps were too tight.

As the situation seemed to worsen, so did Truant's fear. He wasn't panicking, yet, but he definitely was scared. Attempting to stay calm, he began to look around the room. It was small, dirty, very dirty, and looked like something out of a horror novel. He couldn't make out everything, not without his glasses, but he could tell that only broken things, whatever they were, spotted the walls. Looking to his right, Truant noticed that his numbed right hand, still handcuffed to the suitcase, was strapped down to a table. He tugged at it, just for the hell of it, to see if the strap would budge. Of course, it didn't.

Now he was beginning to panic. He had a million questions swirling around his head, making him dizzy, all causing his heart to pound in fear. What was he doing here? Why was he strapped to a chair? What was going on? Who had kidnapped him? What the hell was going on? There was no way he could answer any of those questions.

Truant started taking deep breaths, trying to stifle his ever rising panic. He was stuck, and probably about to be tortured if old stories were even the slightest bit true. Having these thoughts wasn't helping him, but there was nothing to distract him, until two women walked into the room.

He couldn't make out there faces very well, but he could make out the fact that one of them, the brown haired one, was carrying some sort of bag. She dropped it on the floor a few feet away from Truant's chair, and stood in front of him, fists on her hips and eyes glaring at him. The other woman, a blonde, stepped quietly to the side and placed her hands softly on top of the suitcase, sending a smile over at Truant when he looked at her.

“Wh-who are you?” Truant asked, a bit hesitantly. Neither woman answered. “What the hell is this?”

The blonde woman made a snickering noise, which made Truant look over at her, which only made her laugh more. A sliver of anger found its way over his fear, and he scrunched up his brow in frustration. Who the hell was this lady, to be laughing at him for his ignorance? He had just been kidnapped and tased, for fuck's sake!

“What's your name?” The brown haired woman snapped, drawing Truant's attention back to her.

He hesitated briefly. “Truant Soul,” He said, deciding it was better to speak than remain silent.

The woman in front of him scoffed and crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “That's an idiotic name. What, did your parents hate you?”

“They absolutely did not.” He glared at her, his nose scrunching up. “I'm a killjoy.”

The woman scoffed again, and the other snickered. “You don't look like one, in those bleak clothes.”

Bleak. She was comparing him to the city. That was just cruel.

“It's basically suicide to dress like a killjoy in zone one, unless you're asked there,” He retorted, still glaring at the woman.

Once again, the brown haired woman rolled her eyes. This time, though, she dropped her arms and turned away as she did. Keeping his eyes on her, Truant watched as she walked over to the bag she had dropped on the floor, and kneeled down. She pulled out a knife, a fucking meat cleaver. She smiled into the reflection of the knife, making Truant's insides squirm. Was everything going to be super creepy?

The woman stood back up, and sauntered her way over to the table where his hand and the suitcase lay. She glanced at the blonde woman, he smiled sadistically, and grabbed Truant's arm.

It only took his heart stopping for him to realize what they were about to do.

He started to struggle furiously, trying to pull his arm away. Adrenaline and fear coursed through his veins, but the strap wouldn't budge. He grabbed the arm of the chair that his left hand rest on, digging in with his fingernails, and scratched his heels at the fool. It still wouldn't fucking budge.

“No no no no n-”

His rapid protest was cut off by a sudden, piercing scream, and pain coursing through his arm. Intense, blinding, burning pain, up and down, even spreading to his chest. His vision turned white as more screams escaped his already raw throat, before going completely black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack :D  
> I didn't get a chance to write anything while I was gone, so I wrote this up today. I'm gonna write a chapter every day that I can, and maybe I'll be done by the end of the month! Probably not though, because I have 38 pages of plotting, and I'm not even through 2 pages after 5 chapters. This will be a loooong fic, my friends. It doesn't help that I'm gonna start writing a Bones fic, and I'm plotting at least 5 other fics, some even relating to this one.  
> Yep, I'm doomed.


	6. Severed, Bloody Hand

Chapter 6: Severed, Bloody Hand

  
Photon flipped through the pages of his Mazeltov Cocktail 'zine, trying to find the page he wanted. It was an older issue, but one of his favorites, as there was a short, vague interview with Party Poison in it. He paused for a moment in his search, thinking how he didn't really need to keep the 'zine anymore, as he could actually talk to Party Poison himself now. But, he supposed, he had risked quite a bit as a teenager trying to get this 'zine from an underground source in the city. So, he was going to keep it, and reread the small interview that had inspired him to leave the city in the first place whenever he felt like it.

He was about half way through the page-long interview when a knock chimed from the front door of the shop, making the small bell at the top ring slightly. Photon looked up just in time to see a head of curled hair running away. That was all he could see, what with how dirty the glass door they had managed to find was, and all of the shelves and miscellaneous items in the way.

Confused as to why someone would knock a shop door when the shop was open, and vaguely wondering if the kid was just trying to play some sort of lame prank because his friends dared him, he walked over to the door. He noticed a white plastic bag- an old yet somehow unripped one from the city- hanging off of the handle. With a slight frown, he opened the door and grabbed the bag carefully. An odd, unrecognizable smell was coming off of it. Maybe it was some sort of bomb? Eh, probably not. Nobody had the materials to make a proper bomb in the zones.

Photon dropped the plastic bag on the counter, not realizing that whatever was inside might be fragile. It sound fragile, though, as it made a dull thump when it landed on the hard wooden counter. Without thinking, even for a second, at how there could be something potentially dangerous in a random plastic bag left on a door handle by some kid, he pushed the sides open. He almost retched at the sight of the thing inside, and stumbled backwards into a shelf, slamming a hand over his mouth.

It was a hand. A severed, bloody hand, with a crown tattoo in between the thumb and index finger. It was Truant Soul's hand. Truant Soul's severed, bloody fucking hand.

His guts still trying to work their way out through his throat, Photon ran into the back of the shop, falling onto his knees when he got to one of the tables. His hands, his perfectly attached hands, scrambled to grab the communicator, knocking over a few tools and cans in the process.

Swallowing any bile still in his throat, he held the communicator to his mouth and put it on the right frequency.

“Dr. D?” He asked, voice hoarse, the second he heard the familiar crackle of somebody answering.

“Nope! Just your friendly neighborhood Show Pony,” came the voice on the other end.

“Pony, put Dr. D on!” Photon demanded.

“He's a little busy at the moment, Phot-”

“Pony, now! It's fucking important!” He shrieked.

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and Photon took heavy breaths. Then, a second crackle came over the line, then a few more, and finally, a voice.

“Photon? What's up?” Dr. Death Defying asked, dropping his usual, odd-talking persona.

Photon cleared his throat. “I-I need you to play that tape I gave you. Ya know, that song we recorded? It's called 'The Phoenix'.”

“Yeah, man, I remember the one. I keep it right on my desk. You said it was for emergencies, right?” Dr. D was remaining calm, fortunate for the panicking killjoy. “Mind if I ask why you need me to play it?”

Photon shook his head, trying to get his mind to stop for one second so he could get the words out. “I c-can't really say, I... I don't know the full situation, yet, b-but it's really important, man, ya gotta play the tape. Edge and Star need to hear it.”

“Gimme the gist of the sitch, Photon. I might be able to help ya out.”

Photon sighed. “You can't man, it's just... somebody left Truant's severed hand at my door.” He also retched again at the thought of it.

“Shit,” was all Dr. D said, concern lacing his voice.

“Just- don't tell anyone! I don't know what the fuck's happening, it might just be some stupid trick from BL/ind, but that's still pretty shitty, and I just need to figure out what to fucking do-”

The radio host cut off his rant. “I'll play the song, man. I can only play it once, though, or else somebody'll get suspicious.”

“Th-that's fine, just fucking play it. They're always on your channel, anyway.”

Photon ended the call, slamming the communicator back onto the work bench. He forced himself up onto shaky legs and marched out of the shop, adrenaline starting to pump through his veins. He needed to wait for his friends, but hell if he was going to wait in shop that his best friend's severed, rotting hand in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the celebration of America's independence, you guys get Pete Wentz finding his best friend's severed hand. You're welcome.


	7. The Phoenix

Chapter 7: The Phoenix

  
Edge leaned up against car, some old song from before the helium wars blaring through the open windows. He sighed and crossed his arms, still waiting for Truant Soul to come back from the drop off. It had been, what, an hour? Maybe two? It was taking forever. He assumed that either the woman hadn't shown up yet, she was holding a conversation with Truant for some reason, or he had found a shop and was buying needed supplies. Though, supplies were oddly scarce in zone one. Whatever it was, despite his growing impatience, Edge was just going to wait.

He let his thoughts drift to other subjects. He couldn't really focus on the songs, as the drum parts, his favorite, were buried underneath tons of synthetic noises and electro-tuned vocals. Seriously, how had anyone found this good? Raw noises, heavy and direct, he found were much more pleasing and emotionally releasing. Well, to each there one.

It only took a few notes for Edge to recognize the song that played next. He could recognize it anywhere. He had written and played the drum parts. Photon was on bass. Star was on guitar. Truant was on the other guitar, and was singing. This was the one song of theirs they had actually recorded. The Phoenix.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound at the song, just in time to hear a vehicle pull up near his own. He turned around, facing several women coming out of a white van. He reached for his laser gun, but somebody had already reached him and kicked it out of his hand. He swung his arm to punch the woman at his side, but someone had already grabbed his. Then, someone grabbed his other arm, and they started pushing him towards the van. He fought and struggled, yelled and growled, but they were strong, surprisingly so.

It only took a few seconds for them to shove Edge into the van. He landed on the floor of it with a thunk, and didn't even have time to roll over onto his back before the women were inside, the doors were slammed closed, and the thing was moving at a ridiculous speed.

He had barely even shifted his spot when a foot descended on his head, pain exploded in his temple, and everything went starry, then black.

 

~00000~

 

Star sighed as he tried to peer through the broken blinds that shaded the inside of the Fabulous Four's dinner. He had his face pressed up against the glass, but still, there was nothing. He sighed again and pulled away, guessing that if they weren't inside and the doors were locked, they must not be in.

Well, since he was here, and they had a gas station set up, he might as well fill up his car's tank, and leave a few carbons as payment. He walked back over to the car, and drove to the gas station connected to the diner. He noticed there was also a makeshift garage nearby, and nodded his head. Mechanic work was pretty rad, and definitely something people made. No wonder the four could afford such awesome clothes. Or, maybe they just found the clothes. He didn't know.

There was something coming from inside the garage. Obviously, no one was in there, but he guessed whichever one of the four used the garage must've forgotten to turn off their radio. Damn, the battery was gonna run. That sucked. Batteries were expensive this far out in the zones.

Star hummed along with the song as the engine filled up. He bobbed his head, curls bouncing, as well. He didn't really like the song, but he had heard it enough to know the tune, and it was pretty catchy, anyway. He barely even registered the other car pulling up into the station. There was no need to, they probably just needed gas, too.

Just as he was putting the gas nozzle away- and wondering how and where the Fabulous Four got all this gasoline- the song changed. It took until the singing started for him to recognize it. The Phoenix, with Truant Soul's familiar voice ringing out, was blaring over the forgotten radio.

Jumping at the sound, the curly-haired 'joy grabbed the handle of the driver's door and was about to pull open, when a hand when around his mouth and nose. He took in a sharp breath, which was a mistake. He immediately started to get dizzy, and things around him distorted themselves. Fuck, chloroform!

All Star could think was that he needed to get back to the shop, something was wrong, and his friends were going to freak if he didn't show. He needed to run, he needed to go, dammit! He struggled at the arms wrapped around his head and waist, but whoever they were pressed the cloth harder against his nose, and he couldn't hold his breath when he was already so dizzy. He passed out in a lolling heap.

 

~00000~

 

Tapping his foot impatiently against the ground, Photon was starting to grow worried. It had been over an hour since he had yelled at Show Pony and demand that Dr. D play The Phoenix on the radio. He knew it had already played, he had turned on the radio just to hear it, but Anarchy Edge and Ruby Star weren't back yet. Even if they had been zones away, they should've been back by now.

He was too lost in his worry, too focused on staring at the road for the sight of the two familiar cars, that he actually grew slightly angry when he heard feet crunching on the ground up to the shop. He didn't look to see who it was.

“We're closed,” He said irritatedly. “Don't you see the sign in the door? Closed.”

The stranger didn't say a word, but did hurry up there pace. Photon rolled his eyes and turned around just in time to see a woman. He was about to say something when the lady raised up her arm and stabbed a needle- a fucking needle- into his neck, and pressed down on the plunger. His skin went cold where the injection sight was. The killjoy tried to fight back, tried to swing his arm, but his limbs wouldn't cooperate and were going numb. His legs turned to jelly, and fell to the ground. He say the woman hovering over him for a few seconds before he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys get two chapters today. I'm on a ROLL guys.  
> Also, I have nothing to do today.


	8. Hazed Torture

Chapter 8: Hazed Torture

  
Blinking open his eyes, Truant stared at what seemed to be a ceiling, his vision more blurred than it had been before. His arm burned with a fury but he couldn't get himself to react to it. All he could was lay there, unable to move, unable to think, barely able to suck in a breath- though, that wasn't true, he was breathing just fine. It just felt like it was difficult to breath, his chest was so tight.

The ceiling, the lights... they looked like they were moving, flashing by in smudges of white and a sickly green-brown-grey color. It was gross and dizzying to look at, but he couldn't look away. He could barely move his head, it felt so heavy at the moment. Was he moving? He must be. It felt like he was floating, maybe in an airplane. Those things had a thing called turbulence, where they bounced because of the wind, right? This is what he figured that must feel like.

He barely registered when they had stopped moving. His stomach was churning, making him want to throw up. He couldn't, though, he knew that. He didn't want to suffocate on his own vomit. That would be an awful way to die, choking on vomit.

Everything just remained hazy and blurry and dizzy- until something pierced his stomach.

Truant let out a shriek, everything suddenly coming into sharp focus. He strained his neck to look down at where the intense pain was coming from, just to see the two women from before cutting him open. He struggled, and the pain in his gut continued to grow in sharp bursts.

The blonde woman laughed. “Struggling is only gonna make it worse, hon,” she chided in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“You- wha...” his question was lost as it evolved into anything scream, and crying.

Damn, he was actually crying. Fat, hot tears ran down his cheeks, making them feel aflame like his arm and his stomach.

He couldn't tell how long it had been when the women stopped, but it had felt like an eternity. One of them began to sew him up, he could tell by the small pricks that he felt in place of the previous slicing and moving. Compared to everything else he had just felt, it was nothing.

A coldness spread through Truant's left arm. As the women pulled him off the table- which he had no idea how he had gotten on in the first place- and shoved him into a chair, he noticed an IV, an actual fucking IV, sticking out of his arm. He stared, dumbfounded, his head lolling onto his shoulder as whatever was in it started to dull the pain.

“It's just painkillers, honey. Specially made to speed up the healing process!” The blonde lady's words were oddly slurred.

He blinked at her smile, and watched as the two made their way out of the room, leaving him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! I could've made it longer, but I've had a long day of sword fighting with children and playing with a baby. Tomorrow's chapter will be longer, by a lot.


	9. Abandoned Car

Chapter 9: Abandoned Car

  
“Pretty good loot!” Jet Star declared.

Party glanced back at Jet in the mirror from his spot in the trans am's passenger seat. He usually would've just turned around, but there were too many miscellaneous items on his lap for him to be able to move much. Jet, too, along with Fun Ghoul and Grace- everyone except Kobra Kid, who was driving- was squished into the car with their hoards of junk from one of BL/ind's old trash heaps.

“We got a lot,” Party agreed, smiling. “We can clean it all up, use some of it, maybe sell some of it if we don't need it.”

“I'm keeping the teddy bear!” Grace announced. “He just needs a new arm, and a new eye...”

“And more stuffing,” Kobra added.

“Yeah! That too.”

It was only a few minutes later that they were struggling out of the car, arms full of junk, at the diner. Party kept dropping things, and attempting to pick them back up, and then dropping more things. He growled at Ghoul when the shorter man laughed, and threw what looked like on old light bulb- when had he grabbed that?- at him. It bounced harmlessly off of Ghoul's back before shattering on the packed dirt ground, and only really made the redhead drop everything that was in his arms.

He let out a sigh, and started picking everything back up. Kobra wandered over to help him, smirking at his older brother. Party sneered, and was about to make some defensive argument, when a car caught his eye.

A car, in the old gas station they had fixed up and ran, with no owner near or in it, or anywhere in sight.

“Huh,” He breathed, staring at the oddly familiar vehicle.

“What?” Kobra asked.

“That car.” Party pointed it, prompting his brother to look over.

“Uh, so?”

“Nobody's near it. Or in it.”

“Oh.”

The two finished picking up what Party had dropped, and brought inside the diner, leaving it on the table that Jet and Ghoul had left there things with. Grace was sitting under one of the other tables, trying to get the stuffing that was hanging out of the teddy bear to go back in.

“Did you guys notice that car?” The leader asked, gesturing outside with his thumb.

“What car?” Ghoul asked in return, popping up from behind the counter with an unopened can of Power Pup in hand.

“The one at the gas station. There's nobody in it, or near it. We're the only people here, so who's is it?”

He put his hands on his hips, waiting for an answer, a speculation, from any of the others. Nobody said a word, so he rolled his eyes and stepped back towards the door.

“We should check it out, to be safe,” He commanded. “Gracey, stay in here, alright?”

“ 'Kay!”

The four went out to the gas station and gathered around the old car. It was nothing special. Just a car, not even a stolen drac one. It did have plenty of graffiti on it, though. Mostly your average, run-of-the-mill rebel-type graffiti, sayings and phrases, random symbols, the like. But, it also had a few unique markers, namely the cartoon man in a bear suit with a real bear on his shoulders that was painted remarkably well on the hood.

Ghoul circled the vehicle, looking over every last bit of the thing.

“It looks fine. Gas cap's still open, so I guess they just filled up the engine,” He said, shrugging, and pushing the cap closed.

“There are no carbons anywhere,” Jet muttered, a concerned and simultaneously irritated look on his face.

“Someone could've stolen 'em,” Kobra suggested, his arms crossed over his chest. “Just leaving money out in the open makes 'em liable to get stolen.”

“This is why we need a mailbox or somethin', guys,” Party said. He let out a breath. “Well, it looks like the keys are still in the car.”

He peaked in through the half-open window of the driver's side door, looking down at the keys sitting on the seat. Other trinkets were strewn throughout the interior, but none of them of any interest. He put a hand on the door handle, and popped the door open. He carefully lifted the keys off of the seat.

“Well, whoever was here thought they were gonna be getting back in their car,” He said, spinning the keys around his finger. “Didn't lock it, left the window open.”

“Maybe the car's just broken. Left it here for us to find?” Ghoul suggested.

“They would've left carbons for the gas, though,” Jet replied.

“Again, bandits or anyone else could've stolen the carbons,” Kobra reminded them.

“Maybe they had to leave? An emergency popped up, someone came to get them?” Jet tried.

Party listened to the others discuss. He looked over the keys that had been left behind- one, obviously for the car, one that might go to a door, and a few other, small ones that he couldn't figure out where they could possibly go. Maybe they went to some sort of lock box, or a few, that whoever this person was brought from the city. Whatever they belonged to, he probably shouldn't have been thinking about it. He tossed the keys to Ghoul, who caught them effortlessly.

“Bring it into the garage. See if anything's wrong with it,” He ordered, to which he was given a nod. He smiled at the group, and then turned back towards the diner.

Party sat down at the counter, and started fiddling with the deck of cards he had left there the previous day. He wasn't about to start playing solitaire again, though, he had more important things to think about. Like why was that car just there? Who's was it? How'd they get such an awesome mural on it? It was freaky, really, a car just being abandoned like that. He had seen plenty of abandoned cars, but none that had just been filled or with the keys still inside. It was definitely cause for concern.

“Who just leaves there car like that?” He piped up after a little while.

“You sound look Ghoul,” Kobra teased. The dark-haired man was defensive of cars like that.

“No, I'm serious.” The bright redhead turned his seat so he was facing the other two killjoys. “It was unlocked. Still had the keys in it. Tank just filled up. Nobody abandons a car like that.”

Jet shrugged, causing a few of his curls to bounce up. “People have left their cars at random with us before, man.”

“Those people left notes,” Kobra said.

“Whoever this was didn't leave one,” Party said with a nod.

Before the conversation could continue, or devolve into any sort of bickering, Fun Ghoul walked back into the diner, something in his hand.

“So?” The leader asked.

“Car's fine. It's in as good condition as any car in the zones can be,” he concluded. “I think it belongs to the Young Bloods.”

This caught everyone's attention. Party slipped out of his chair, feeling a need to stand. He stepped closer to Ghoul, and crossed his arms defensively. He already had suspicions that something bad had happened to the owner of the car, but hearing that it might belong to their newest allies, especially since they seemed like such kind people, sent a wave of worry through his chest.

“How can you tell?” He asked, his tone becoming serious.

Ghoul held out the item in his hand, an old polaroid. “I found this in the glove box.”

Party grabbed the picture and started examining it. Four teenagers, with the distinct facial features of the Young Bloods, were sitting on a couch in front of a brick wall. They all looked plumper, healthier, so he assumed it was taken back in the city. Photon, Star, and Edge were all lacking in tattoos, while Edge also had longer hair and glasses. Star had shorter hair, to the point that it didn't look curly. Truant's hair was ginger, rather than the blond-ish color he had now. They were all smiling, or maybe laughing about something. Party's stomach twisted up at the thought that maybe their happiness had been shattered.

“This is... this is definitely them,” He said, waving the picture. He handed it to Kobra, who immediately started squinting at it, with Jet peering over his shoulder. “Guys, this is freaking me out a little.”

“I dunno, Party, they could've just forgotten to leave a note,” Jet said, looking up at the leader.

“They really don't seem like the type, though,” He replied.

“Could've been Photon,” Kobra suggested.

“Yeah!” Ghoul was quick to agree. “He was a little out-there. He seems like the type to forget.”

Party shrugged, unconvinced. Instead of carrying the argument, though, he turned back to the counter and grabbed his cards. It was completely idiotic to leave a car with no note and no problems with them, but, he supposed, maybe Ghoul had missed something. He had done a quick once-over. The problem could be smaller than that. None of that helped to ease his worry, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some calm in the wake of not-calm. Don't worry, more drama-drama to come!  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/d6/17/62/d61762bfa597bd139c84e8787fbd8542.jpg That's the picture that I reference in this chapter.


	10. Unusual Torture

Chapter 10: Unusual Torture

  
When Edge came to, there was a throbbing in his left temple, and his chin was against his chest. His leaning forward, in a chair, making a little difficult to take in full breaths now that he was awake. He opened his eyes and sat up straight. The second he did, he felt something tugging on his arms, and something else pressing into his waist. He looked down, ignoring for the moment the fact that he was in some weird room, as he knew he had been kidnapped. A straight jacket was wrapped around him, holding his arms to his side. On top of that, ropes around his waist and legs were holding him down to a chair. And, he noticed after a minute, he was wearing headphones.

What the fuck was this? Headphones? He could understand the straight jacket, it was a restraint, but fucking headphones? Seemed like something straight of a cheesy pre-war novella.

The muscular killjoy started to tug at his restraints, hoping that maybe the straight jacket was old and the ties would rip or come undone, and then he could untie the ropes himself, and find a way out of this place. Unfortunately, the ties held fast.

Edge only stopped struggling when someone walked into the room. A woman, a tall one, walked right past him, towards some machine he hadn't noticed before.

“Hey!” Edge shouted at her. “Hey! What the fuck is this?”

She ignored him, much his increasing chagrin, and stopped at the machine. After a moment of checking the machine over, she looked up at Edge, and sent him a smirk. A smug, shit-eating smirk. Oh, if only he could get out of his restraints. If only.

The woman flicked a switch, and any thoughts Edge was having were quickly replaced with loud, piercing, painful, inconsistent noises from the headphones. He screamed, even though he couldn't even hear himself screaming, and struggled harder to get his hands out of the jacket. He needed to get the headphones off, he needed to get them off right fucking now. All he could think was to get the headphones off, before the noises, whatever the fuck kinda noises they were, made his head explode.

After some unknown amount of time, the noises stopped, leaving a ringing in Edge's ears. A loud, annoying ringing, but it was better than whatever the hell had just gone through those headphones. Breathing heavily, he looked up at the woman, and he could've sworn she was laughing at him as she flicked the switch and turned the machine on again.

 

~00000~

 

Photon woke up abruptly, panic ripping throw him at the sound of metal slamming into metal. He took sharp breaths, looking around, and calmed once he realized there was nothing. The calm didn't last long, though, when he realized he was handcuffed to a chair in a freaky looking room. He pulled at the handcuffs briefly, but stopped when it only resulted in pain in his wrist.

He was only alone for a few minutes, barely even long enough to come up with some weird theory as to why he was locked in this room. He did have enough time to figure that this must have something to do with Truant's severed hand, the thought of which made him want to throw up. He resisted the urge.

A young woman, barely even out of her teens, walked into the room, long black hair swishing behind her in its ponytail. The killjoy didn't say a word, just kept his eyes on her.

The woman smiled at him. She had a camera hanging from a strap around her neck, which she picked up and clicked a quick picture with. The picture fell out from the polaroid camera, landing on the floor, face down.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Photon asked, beyond confused. He had been kidnapped, just for some chick to take pictures of him? It was probably some sick trophy for his murderer to remember the day by.

The woman didn't answer. She just snapped a few more pictures, letting them litter the floor, not even putting them somewhere they could develop.

“I'm taking pictures for Miss Love,” She said sweetly, smiling like she was being a doll.

Wait, who? “Who's Miss Lo-”

Photon was cut off when the woman suddenly sighed and ran towards the door, muttering something about being an idiot, and how Miss Love would kill her if she kept forgetting it.

This wasn't even scary anymore. This was just weird.

 

~00000~

 

Who knew you could be dizzy in your sleep? Star certainly hadn't known that, but, it was true. He was asleep and he was dizzy. But he wouldn't really be able to tell that he was dizzy if he was asleep...  
Star forced his eyes open, and blinked a few times to adjust them to the darkness of the room. His dizziness soon passed, and he realized he was tied to a chair, three little children standing on the other side of the room from him.

He blinked again. “Uh, hello,” He greeted them, not sure of what to make of the situation.

The kids stared, and he stared back. While they looked like angry eight-year-olds with their arms crossed and noses scrunched, Star's expression remained one of confusion. One of the kids, after a few more silent moments, grabbed something off of the table near them and threw it at the man across from them.

It hit Star square in the forehead, making some sort of juice run down his face. A drop of it slipped into mouth, and he figured out it was a tomato. A tomato. An old, pretty rotten tomato, but nonetheless a tomato.

The kids started throwing everything they had on their table of him- old fruit, old vegetables, even cans of food. It hurt like a bitch, but other than that, it was nothing. He tried to duck and dodge, but that was difficult when your arms and legs were tied to a chair.

When a can landed at his feet, Star looked down at it, and saw the familiar yellow and black sticker they had also been told to avoid when they were kids in the city- the sticker that told you whatever the object was, it was poisoned by radiation.

Star yelped, kicking the can the best he could with his restrained feet. A piece of something landed in his mouth, and he spit it out the second he could taste it.

“Stop! Stop, please!” He yelled, but the kids kept throwing the irradiated food at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters a day is becoming a bit of a thing. I have a lot of time, just for writing.  
> There'll probably only be one tomorrow, just so you know. I have work tomorrow.  
> We're getting back into the drama, guys.


	11. Escape Attempt

Chapter 11: Escape Attempt

  
The young woman walked back in about five minutes after she had left. This time, Photon noticed, she had a hook hanging from her belt, like some sort of lame pirate. This whole 'torture' situation was just getting more and more confusing. So, out of the sake of his sanity, Photon shoved his confusion to the last of his concerns and made getting out and finding his friends his top priority.

She started taking pictures again, covering the floor in polaroids- how was she not out of ink or whatever yet? He was growing ever more uncomfortable with this. It wasn't a porn shoot, but she was still taking the ridiculous amount of pictures they did at porn shoots in the seedier parts of the zones.

A new thought crawled its way into the killjoy's mind. When she was done, she was going to kill him with that stupid hook of hers. Fuck, then, let her take as many pictures as she wanted! He shook his head, forcing the disturbing thought, as well as the ones about his friends, out of his mind as much as he could. He didn't need to be thinking like that. He needed to be focusing on finding a way out of this shit hole.

After a few minutes, the woman stopped taking pictures, and looked at Photon with her eyes, rather than through the lenses of a crappy old camera. His heart was already pounding, and this just made his nervousness worse. She took the camera off, putting it down on a small table near the door along with the strap that had held it on her neck. She looked oddly nervous, but not the same kind that he was. More... shy, like a teenage girl with her boyfriend in a more intimate situation. It just added to Photon's continuing confusion.

“You know...” She said, in an oddly sweet voice, as she took a few slow steps closer. “Miss Love only wanted a few pictures.”

Okay, creepy. This was creepy. “...Why did you keep taking pictures?” Photon asked cautiously.

The woman smiled bashfully. “I wanted some for myself. You're cute, ya know.”

He paused, confused yet again, before what she meant dawned on him. His eyes went wide, and she laughed. Not a mocking laugh, but more of a playful, 'how adorable' laugh. This woman had to be insane.

She finished her slow walk over to him, and Photon finally realized what she was doing. She was trying to seduce him. It was completely insane, the woman meant to be his torturer was trying to bang him! Craziness at its finest.

“You don't need to die in vain,” She purred, sitting down on his lap and kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

This was terrible. All of this was terrible. It wasn't exactly torture, but it was terrible. Except... this might give him a chance to escape, if he played it right.

Photon turned his head so that their lips touched, and the woman smiled into it. Well, she liked it, obviously. It was only a couple of seconds before they were in a full-on make-out session.

He couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Taking advantage of some girl like this, even if she was supposed to be his torturer, it was just wrong. She could be seventeen, for all he knew! She looked like she could be anywhere from a teenager to twenty-five, but she definitely acted like someone fresh out of their teens. This was all just messed up. He had gotten stabbed with a needle and the world had turned upside-down while he was unconscious.

After a few moments, Photon moved his head the woman started kissing his neck.

“I can't really do much with my hands cuffed behind a chair,” He said, hoping he sounded like he was teasing her.

The woman pulled away and quirked a brow at him. “Do you really think I'm that stupid?”

“Do you really think I'm stupid enough to try hurting you?” He replied.

The woman paused, thinking, before shrugging her agreement. She got off of him, and went behind the chair, unlocking the handcuffs. Photon rubbed at his wrists, glad to be unchained, until the woman came back around and sat on his lap again. To convince her that he wasn't going to do anything, he started making out with her again, keeping up the charade for a few more minutes.

He shoved her off of him, and pushed himself off of the chair before kicking the shocked woman in the side. She grabbed his foot right after impact, and he fell over, landing hard on his back. She managed to get on top of him, and throw a punch or two, but he threw her off and got a couple of choice hits in on her face. They both scrambled to their feet, and the woman jumped at him with her surprisingly sharp nails without even a breath. He hit her with his fists and elbows anywhere he could get at while she attempted to scratch him, or knee him in the balls.

The woman didn't even remember the hook. But Photon did.

The second he got a chance, Photon grabbed the pirate hook and ripped it off of the woman's belt, backing up quickly before she could grab it back. She growled, and without a second thought, he lunged forward and embedded the sharp point into her jugular vein.

She spluttered and gasped, pulling the hook out of her neck, only to open up the wound more. Blood spurted out from it, because of her pounding heart, until she slammed a hand over the spot. It didn't stop the flow of blood, though, as it quickly slipped its way from between her fingers, leeching onto her clothes. She stumbled backwards and collapsed, dead within seconds.

Photon's breaths were ragged, uneven, scared. He stared at the woman's body, terrified of what he had just done. He had killed her. He had murdered her.

It took a few moments, but the killjoy snapped out of his thoughts and looked around. He shakily grabbed the hook, because he might need protection, and bolted from the room.

He ran down the unfamiliar, twisting hallways of whatever building he had been dragged into. His stomach churned, but, for the second time that day, he forced the bile down and continued running. He didn't stop until he heard a banging noise, something on metal, and shouting. He froze in front of a door, only yanking it open when he figured it might be one of his friends.

But no, it wasn't one of his friends. It was some guy, some random guy, with blood on his shirt and cut on his forehead.

The guy sighed with relief. “Oh, thank god!” He exclaimed.

Photon had to force himself to speak. “Who are you?”

“I-I'm Sean,” The guy said, looking up at him like he was some sort of savior. “You... you opened the door, and you're covered in blood, so I'm guessing you got kidnapped, too, um...?”

“Uh, most people call me Polar Photon, or just Photon,” He said. “Why are you here?”

“Pissed off the wrong girl. You?”

“Honestly, I have no fucking clue!”

A few footsteps resounded down from another hallway, and Sean glanced around nervously. He grabbed Photon's wrist and started dragging him away from the source of the noise.

“C'mon, we gotta find a way out!” He declared.

Photon and Sean ran, taking random turns and avoiding anything that sounded like it could be another person, until they found a door. Sean pushed it open, smiling when dry, warm air flooded in through it and sand appeared on the ground.

“We can leave!” He exclaimed happily, lurching through the door.

Shaking his head a little, his forehead creased in worry, Photon took a few steps backwards, into the building he had just found an escape from. He could leave, the door was right there, unguarded, unwatched. But he needed to find his friends, the only three people in the world he actually had. He couldn't abandon them.

“Hey, what're you doin'?” Sean called back, concern lacing his force.

“M-my friends, they're still in there, I gotta find them! I just...” He glanced over his shoulder, wary of the noises behind him. “Sean, find the Fabulous Four for me. Ya know, Party Poison and his crew? Find them, and tell them what's happening. Tell them where to find us, please,” He begged.

Sean frowned, but nodded his head, before running from the building.

Photon closed the door and started running, just as an alarm started to go off. He swore, and started running faster. He could hear people behind, how far, he couldn't determine. After a few turns, a yellow light emanating from an open door caught his eye. He skidded on his feet in front of the door, and immediately noticed Truant Soul, unconscious and strapped to a chair, probe-like things stuck to his arms, forehead and neck.

He ran inside, and shook Truant, calling his name until the younger man woke up, blearily looking around.

“Thank god! Oh, thank fucking god!” Photon breathed.

“Pete...?” Truant asked groggily.

“Yeah, yeah, it's me, man, I... oh shit, look at you!”

Photon, for the third time, almost threw up. Truant was covered in blood that was leaking from his shirt, he had cuts and bruises everywhere, and there was stump where his right hand shoulder be. The sight was unbearable, just fucking awful. He couldn't help it when he started crying for his best friend. What the fuck could they have done for Truant to deserve this?

“Okay, um...” He stuck the fabric holding onto the bottom of the hook over the bandaged stump of a hand, thinking he would need to protect himself. “Okay, okay, now let's get you out of here, alright?”

He was struggling to undo the strap around Truant's remaining hand when someone grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to the ground. Two women, a blonde and brunette, started beating him. Both of them were much stronger than the young woman he had fought and killed before, and in this emotional state, Photon couldn't get himself to fight back.

“No! Stop! Leave him alone!” Truant shrieked, suddenly alert.

But his pleas turned into screams as electricity crackled through the wires that lined the walls. The women dragged Photon away, out of the room. He struggled and cried out for his friend, but it was futile. They had too good of a grip on him. That didn't stop him from trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interaction between Pete and that lady is the closest this fic will ever come to smut. Sorry if any of you are disappointed, but I'm actually not sorry at all.


	12. A Situation

Chapter 12: A Situation

  
A weak beeping noise sounded, and Jet Star looked up from his zine. He reached across the table and grabbed the dragged the communicator closer to him, and answered it. There was a familiar crackle when he lifted the receiver to his mouth.

“Hello? Jet Star speaking,” He said.

“Jet? It's Cherri,” Cherri Cola answered.

“Hey Cherri. What's up? Any trouble out in our zone?” Jet flipped through his zine, glancing at the glued in pictures, as he spoke.

“Some sorta shit's goin' down, man, I don't even know what it is.”

Jet paused, looking away from his zine and to the communicator. “What're you talking about, Cherri? What happened?” He kept his tone calm and cool, ever the responsible and comforting one, despite the fact that Cherri seemed to be handling whatever was going on just fine.

“Some guy, this guy splattered with blood, ran into Tommy's shop and just started rambling, saying he needed to find you guys, to help Photon,” The younger man quickly explained. “It was pretty freaky. I told him about the Young Blood's shop, 'cause I wasn't about to give you guys away to a someone that sketchy, and he ran off.”

“Wait, did you say he said he needed to help Photon?” Jet questioned, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn't hear.

“Yeah, he meant Polar Photon, the Young Blood, right?”

“I'm pretty sure he did.” He sighed. “Well, thanks, Cherri, for the information. We've had a few concerns, and I think you just confirmed them.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not in the least.”

Jet hung up without another word, considering his last statement to be an end to the conversation. He sighed and ran a hand through his curls trying to figure out what exactly to say. He sighed again, deciding the others would prefer if he just cut to the chase.

“Guys, we have a situation.”

The three looked over at him from whatever it was that they were doing, confusion and curiosity obviously marked on their faces. Party raised a single eyebrow at him, silently ushering him to continue.

“Just got a call from Cherri, he says there's a guy talking about needing to find us to help Photon. Said he sent him to the Young Blood's shop.”

Party blinked. He stood up pointing at each of them individually. “I told you! I told you something was wrong!” He waved his finger the longest at his brother, who rolled his eyes.

“Party-”

“Right, right, sorry.” The redhead sat down. “Uh... Ghoul! What about the car?”

Ghoul glanced over at their leader. He dropped the rag he had been using to get grease off of his hands onto the table, and sat back, crossing his arms.

“I checked over everything, two or three times. The worst thing wrong with it is that it's old and full of sand, so it's the same as everything else out here that isn't a living person,” he reported.

“Someone kidnapped them. All of them, presumably, since none of them have showed up here yet,” Party affirmed, with a confident nod of his head. He was definitely proud of being right, but was trying to conceal it.

“That's what I was thinking,” Jet said, nodding. “I mean, a guy, covered in blood, saying he needs to help Photon? I don't think it could get more obvious, honestly.”

“We need to check out their shop,” the leader commanded, going into serious mode. “And call Dr. D so he can send out a warning. We should hold back a little on that, though, until we know a bit more. Just warn him about a warning for a warning.”

“What about Grace?” Ghoul asked. “We can't bring her with us if it's going to be too dangerous. I mean, sure, she's eight and can shoot a missile canon, but she hasn't learned hand-to-hand and this sounds like more of a hand-to-hand type thing.”

“We can leave her with Cherri Cola and Tommy Chow Mein.” Party waved a hand, slightly dismissively.

“Gross,” Grace whined from under a table.

“Gracey, you like Cherri.”

“Yeah, but Tommy's a jerkface!”

“That's not... okay, yeah, that is true.”

“Are you sure?” Jet asked the redhead, concerned. Tommy was not one of the more savory people in the zones, and Jet didn't even like it when she was with them when they bought supplies from Tommy. He was a decent guy, but generally not a good influence for children. “We could always leave her with Show Pony and Dr. D, or even that Toxic Angel chick, she lives nearby.”

“No, I'd feel better if she was with Cherri, honestly.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kobra agreed.

Jet sighed. Alright, Cherri was a good guy, good protector. He was teaching Grace how to shoot, anyway, so maybe he could distract the girl with that.

Grabbing his shades- the afternoon sun was a harsh one- Jet followed the other three out. He wasn't really one to follow his gut all that often, preferring logic and reason, but something was telling him that this was going to be bad.

“C'mon, Grace!” He called through the door, waiting for her to follow before heading to the trans-am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not too good. Oh well, whatever. I just need to work on perspective, and better define they're personalities. It's easier to write when it's more focused in on the one character, rather than several, ya know?  
> Anyway, I'm gonna start working on a fic soon. It's a bandom private school au because I'm trash.


	13. Burning to the Dirt

Chapter 13: Burning to the Dirt

  
This time, he woke up to darkness. Not complete darkness, there was a sort of hazy light coming from somewhere, but that didn't detract from the fact that he couldn't see. Pete shook his head, hoping he had just forgotten to actually open his eyes. Then he blinked, and realized he actually couldn't see. From the fact that each breath heated up his face more, he figured he must have a bag over his head. So continues the kidnapping.

It didn't take long for the groggy, tired haze to lift off of his mind before he realized that not only was there a bag over his head, there was also a gag in his mouth and his hands were tied back. He poked at the mouth-drying gag with his tongue, cringing at the taste. On top of that, whatever they were in was moving, hitting a lot of bumps.

Pete struggled, but managed to get the gag out of his mouth. It helped that it wasn't tied very well, but it didn't help that it was the single most disgusting tasting thing he had ever known.

“Um... hello?” He called out at the others he could feel pressed against him.

“Pete?” A voice replied. Joe.

“Joe!”

“Guys!” Andy squeaked.

“Holy shit... P-Patrick?” Pete asked, his voice cracking. With the way the man had been before... he was hoping he was dead.

Patrick groaned in response, and it sounded like he spit out his gag. “I... think they gave me enough painkillers,” He slurred lightly.

“Holy shit!” Pete sighed, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. “Thank god!”

“...Painkillers?” Joe asked hesitantly.

“They cut off my hand, to get the suitcase, and then tortured me,” Patrick replied.

Pete had to hold back a sob at the memory of what his best friend had looked like, that room. It was a horror that he was probably going to have nightmares about later, especially if they didn't all make it out, but that wasn't something he needed to be thinking about right then.

“I'm going to kill the people who did this to you,” Andy growled.

“So that's what this is all about...” Joe murmured.

“Why the hell would they have to cut off your hand to get the fucking suitcase?! Couldn't they have just cut the chain?!” Pete raged, suddenly remembering the severed hand in the bag that had started this all. “This is bullshit! Kidnap and torture for a fucking suitcase!”

“Pete! Breath!” Patrick insisted. “I'm fine, sort of. You put that hook over my ha- where my hand used to be, and they didn't take it off.”

Pete grumbled to himself about how that didn't make a difference, but quieted down despite his opinion. He listened to Andy and Joe question Patrick, and Patrick's slightly slurred replies. He was going to pipe up again, when the conversation moved onto the suitcase and why these woman wanted it and felt they needed to torture four men for it, but the vehicle they were in suddenly lurched to a halt.

The group grew silent. A minute later, crashing, shattering, and banging sounded from outside. Pete pressed himself closer to Patrick, who seemed to be shaking a little. After what he assumed was five minutes, the noises stopped. It was silent, other than a few footsteps outside.

It was another few, silent, and agonizingly long moments before the unfortunately familiar sent hit his nose. Smoke. Within seconds, one of them coughed, and then the heat hit.

“Shit!”

The fact that the van- he assumed it was a van- was on fire pushed Pete into a sudden fervor, pulling at his restraints, trying to untie them. He managed to get a grip on something, and that something pulled the rope loose. He immediately pulled the bag off of his head, squinting through the smokey haze.

Patrick, Joe, and Andy were struggling, starting to panic, so Pete worked quickly. He untied their restraints, holding his breath, and then moved to the door of the van. He grabbed the handle, but it wouldn't budge, so he started slamming his shoulder into it. Soon, all of them except for Patrick were pushing on the locked doors. The fire had made its way inside when the door finally snapped open and they tumbled out.

Pete scrambled to his feet, and stared in disbelief at the sight in front of them.

“The shop!” He shrieked. “Our shop!”

The old building was wrecked, windows shattered and everything broken, and was quickly being engulfed by flames. Their fucking shop, the thing that had spent months fixing, had spent hundreds of carbons on just to board it up, was burning into the fucking dirt. Everything bad was just becoming worse, and worse, and Pete couldn't handle this.

“Hey, guys,” Joe called. Looking over, he was pointing at a group of kids a bit away.

“They're... probably from the nearby town? Saw the fire and got interested. Kids like fire,” Andy suggested.

Pete didn't care about a group of neutral kids. “What the fuck are we gonna do about our fucking shop!?” He cried, punching the red haired man in the shoulder.

“Pete...”

He looked over at Patrick, who was pointing at the kids they were all staring at. They looked like any group of kids fascinated by what they probably thought was a bonfire. He really, really couldn't care less about some group of kids.

“What?” He demanded.

“The kids... they've got weapons.”

He squinted. Weapons? What weapo- oh. Looking closer, the kids had a lot of weapons. Baseballs bats, knives, one even had a fucking axe. Who the fuck like a twelve-year-old use an axe? 

Pete grabbed Patrick's good wrist when the man took a nervous step back.

“Maybe they saw or heard something and just got scared,” he suggested, trying to keep the other man calm.

But then, they started running. A moment of utter terror struck Pete, and only scrambled to run when Joe passed out of his sight and Patrick hand slipped from his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sudden change to real names! They're all too fucked to use their killjoy names.


	14. Fresh Hell

Chapter 14: Fresh Hell

  
Sean slammed his foot down on the breaks, stopping the car a whiles away from where that guy had told him Photon's shop was. The guy hadn't even noticed when he had stolen his car... or he had, and just decided not to say or do anything about it. He hoped it was the latter.

He got out of the stolen car and started running towards the shop, barely able to see anything in the night's darkness. When he got close enough, though, he realized there was a van parked in front of it, and several people breaking the windows and everything else that was part of the shop. Two women and a man were gutting the place. Before they could see him, Sean scrambled behind an oddly tall grouping of desert shrubs.

He kept down out of free, put continually peaked his head above the shrubs to see what was going on. His heart pounded every time he did this, out of the fear that he would be seen, one of the women would recognize him, and they would drag him back to that terrible building they called their 'headquarters'. With how far away he was, and how dark it was, it was unlikely they could see him at all.

Sean stayed exactly where he was as the man and women destroyed the shop, coated it in gasoline, and lit it on fire. He didn't know where Pete and his friends were, maybe they were still stuck in that awful warehouse, but that didn't seem likely after an escape attempt. He only realized that they were inside the van as a woman dumped gasoline on it, and the man dropped a second match, and it burst into flame. He froze in horror, and barely moved as the arsonists left in a second vehicle.

He let out a relieved breath when four men- one whom he recognized as Photon- tumbled out of the van, and got away from the flames. Good, no one was dying tonight.

He was starting to stand up, thinking he should go over there to tell Photon that he hadn't been able to get to the Fabulous Four, when he noticed they were staring at something. Then, they started to run. Sean took a step back in confusion, before seeing the kids, all of them wielding weapons.

Sean continued to stand in place, watching in awed confusion and terror, as the children chased after the men. Photon tripped, but scurried to his feet and ran faster. The curly haired guy was zig-zagging, trying to get the kid away from him. The muscular guy was just running. The blond guy was, oddly enough, being chased by a kid with a boom box. He must not have realized that the kid was basically harmless.

But when the kid stopped and turned the boom box on, an strange sort of sound burst from its speakers, and the blond guy lurched backwards in what seemed to be pain. He slammed his hands over his ears, and let out a shriek that Sean could hear loud and clear. After a moment, though, he let his hands fall from his ears and he turned towards one of his friends, marching towards him like he was about to kill the guy.

Oh no. He was about to kill the guy. This couldn't possibly be happening, the guy was fucking hypnotized. What fresh hell was this?

Sean bolted towards the kid with the boom box, determined not to let some hypnotized guy snap out of it to find he had killed his friend. That would be far worse than anything he had been through himself. When he reached the kid, which only took a few seconds despite the sand he was kicking up, he brought his hand down on the kids' head. The kid dropped the boom box and fell to his knees. The second the large radio hit the ground the sound faltered, and Sean kicked it a few times before it broke and the noise stopped completely. The kid stared at the broken radio for a minute, and then passed out, face down in the sand.

The blond guy stared at Sean, an odd yellow glow fading out of his eyes. The two stood there like that for a few seconds, eyes locked, until the blond shook his head and ran off.

Sean sighed. One kid was unconscious, now he just needed to get the others- the three with real weapons- to stop chasing Photon and the other two. He turned to head towards where he had last seen Photon running.

He couldn't move. Suddenly, there was a sharp, overwhelming back in the back of his neck, and he couldn't get any of his limbs or muscles to do what he wanted them to. Other than the pain in his neck, everything was numb, and strangely cold. He landed on the ground with a disgusting thump, something that probably should've hurt more than it had. He watched helplessly as his own blood pooled around his head, and everything quickly faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty short. Most of these chapters take up two and a half pages on a word document, but this one is only about one. Oh well, I'm not trying to make the chapters long, anyway. I'm not a fan of long chapters.  
> Sorry for not updating for a few days. I've been busy. I might post another chapter later today, but no promises. I won't be posting one tomorrow because I'll be at my aunt's house, but there will be one before I go to band practice on Wednesday!


	15. Death and Smoldering Remains

Chapter 15: Death and Smoldering Remains

  
It took longer than any of them would have preferred to get to Zone Three. Not only because they had stopped to drop off Grace and get more information out of Cherri, but because the easiest way to Zone Three, Route Guano, had been cut off by city workers collecting dead draculoids. Kobra had watched the workers forlornly as they had made their way around, on the nearby dirt roads. He hated the city and stupid dracs as much as the next guy, but it didn't feel right to kill them no matter what. Maybe whoever had fought had had no choice, but maybe they had. There was no way of knowing for sure.

The sun was starting to rise once they finally got to the Young Blood's shop, but something about the place seemed dark. Party pulled the trans-am to a stop, and they all climbed out. Kobra had to do a double-take at what he saw.

That nice little shop they had been in just a few days ago was now a smoldering pile of ash and chunks of blackened things that had been tables, walls, and trinkets before. Smoke was still rising lazily from the dust, curling up into the air. Nearby, a completely ruined van stood, wheels melted and windows shattered.

“Fucking shit!” Party hissed, marching towards the remains of the shop.

Kobra scowled, following quietly after his brother. He kept his eyes between the ground and the horizon, not wanting to look at the burnt down shop, not wanting to think of what could have happened. There were footprints in the sand, but there were so many that it made them all untraceable. They overlapped, criss-crossed, and stomped each other out. Absolute chaos had occurred and it made it impossible to gather anything other than they were in for hell.

“There's no one in the van!” Ghoul called out.

“No one in the shop, either, it looks like,” Party replied.

“There's blood...”

Keeping his eyes entirely on the ground now, Kobra noted the dots of dried blood in the sand, splattered in various ways, but all heading in the same general direction. He started following the splatters, figuring they must belong to a lot of different people since they didn't make up much of a trail. They lead away from the shop, branching off in different ways as he walked farther out. After a few minutes, one of the vague trails of dots started to converge into something a little more solid, with more blood. Kobra looked up, looked in front of him, and stopped walking when he saw a dead body.

He knew whoever it was had to dead, there was a fucking axe sticking out of the back of their neck, and blood pooled around their head. Absolutely no one could've survived that. The killjoy whispered a swear, and took a few more steps back. This was bad. People were dying because of whatever the hell was going on. It wasn't right, it was messed up.

“Hey, Kobra, what's- oh, shit,” Ghoul shouted from behind him, stopping with a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah... dead guy,” Kobra replied, his voice shaking slightly.

“We should-”

“No. Don't touch him.”

Ghoul took his had off of Kobra's shoulder, much to the taller man's relief. He took a few hesitant steps forward, and carefully kneeled next to the body. It made him sick, referring to this guy as 'the body', but he didn't know his name.

“Oh, fuck, Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” Ghoul said, his tone rising in alertness as he swore.

Kobra looked up, away from the guy in front of him, over at his friend. He looked like he was about to hurl, especially with the fact that his hand was over his mouth. He stood up and walked over.

“Ghoul?” He asked. Ghoul just pointed at something.

Following where he was pointing, Kobra had to slam a hand over his mouth, too. There was a kid, laying in the sand, looking just as dead as the dead he had just found. Blood was dried to his forehead where he had been hit by something, and the broken pieces of a boom box was scattered next to him.

It took him a minute of looking away and keeping his eyes closed before he could get his stomach under control.

“Party!” Kobra yelled, his tone upset. He had to force the words out. “Party! Jet!”

It was few only a moment later that the two arrived. Neither had to ask anything to see what the problem was. Party grabbed his younger brother and pulled him into a hug. Kobra immediately wrapped his arms around him.

“It's alright, kiddo, it's okay, you're okay,” the elder brother cooed.

“No, no, there's a dead kid, Party, he's dead,” He muttered into his shoulder. He couldn't help but think of Grace, how it could've been here dead like that. It could be, maybe in the future.

“C'mon, breathe,” Party insisted.

Eventually, Kobra pulled away and sighed, nodding at his brother's worried look. Party draped an air around the younger's shoulder and they started walking back towards the trans-am. Kobra glanced back, and saw Jet gently grabbing Ghoul's arm and ushering him in the same direction. They both looked like they had seen a ghost. He supposed they all looked like that.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ghoul whined, leaning against the car once they had made it back.

“No clue,” Party replied. “But whatever it is, it's fucked up. The Young Bloods are in some serious trouble.”

“We have to help them,” Kobra insisted.

“We will, kid, don't worry about that.”

Jet rubbed at his eye. “I don't think anyone used any laser guns. There's no new scorch marks on any or the rocks and plants or anything out here. They must've used different weapons.”

“Who the hell doesn't use laser guns?” Ghoul demanded.

“Someone who really wants them to suffer,” Kobra asserted.  
Without another word, and his face going stony, he got into the back seat of the trans-am and slammed the door shut. He wanted to find them- Photon, Truant, Edge, and Star, as fast as possible, but he knew he needed to be patient. Right now, though, he wasn't going to be. Two people were dead, one of them was a kid. He knew, he just knew that their newest allies couldn't have done this, that it had to be whoever was attacking them. He was angry, angry that his friend were being attacked and people were dying. He just wanted to find them, and stop this insanity.

He heard Jet say something about asking people in the nearby neutral town, and then Party say something else about a warning and Dr. Death Defying. Then, the other three got into the car, Ghoul sliding in next to him. The other killjoy patted his friends shoulder, and Kobra gave him a vague reassuring smile, if you could even call it that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's another short chapter. The next one isn't going to be much longer, but the ones after that probably will start to get lengthier. Not by too much, though, they'll probably just be four or five pages in a word document rather than two or three.  
> Also, I'd like some feedback on how I'm portraying the different characters. Are their portrayals staying consistent and realistic? Feedback helps more stories come sooner!  
> Finally, there won't be a chapter tomorrow. I have a babysitting job to do.


	16. Radio Warning

Chapter 16: Radio Warning

  
Dr. Death Defying clicked the button to end the call, and slammed the communicator down with such frustration that it nearly fell off of the counter. He let out a sigh, a weary sigh that he must've been holding in for years, waiting for something like this to happen.

“D?” Show Pony asked, skating slowly over to the counter and placing the next record near the player. “What's up? Whoever that was sounded pretty freakin' worried, or maybe terrified.” He shrugged. “I couldn't make out most of the words.”

“I need to make an announcement,” Dr. D declared.

“Oh, okay.”

He hadn't had to make a warning announcement like this in years. Any warning he had broadcasted usually had to do with the weather, or telling killjoys to avoid certain areas do to increases in draculoid activity. All small, common occurrences. Nothing major, nothing that was one-hundred percent lethal.

The second the song that was playing ended, Dr. D pulled the needle off of the vinyl and took the record off. He handed it to Pony, flicked a switch, and leaned in close to the old microphone.

“Here's the deal, motorbabies,” He began. “Our new friends over in Zone Three, the boys known as the Young Bloods, have gotten themselves in a prickly situation.” He kept his tone in the same old tone he used whenever he spoke about anything on the radio. He remained a professional radio host. “It seems a pack of blood-thirsty zoners have their sadistic hearts set on making these guys suffer and bleed as much as possible. Now, these people- rumored by one of our own to only be ladies, they ain't Better Living operatives, so don't go chasin' down any dracs that aren't causin' problems.” He paused, giving the listeners a few seconds to absorb the information. “Right now, we don't know who these killer queens are or what their deal is, and we don't know where the Young Bloods are. So far, two have been ghosted. To all you neutrals out there,” He continued, “I'm not gonna ask you to do anything more than to report to your nearest killjoy if you see anything suspicious. Now killjoys, we got the Fabulous Four on this case, but any help is welcome. All you crash queens, motorbabies, killjoys, and neutrals be careful out there. This is Dr. Death Defying, signing out.”

During his speech, Dr. D had replaced the old record with the new one. When he finished, he flicked the same switch back to its old position, and dropped the needle onto the vinyl. There was a ragged crackling for a moment, before music started playing.

He turned to face his assistant, an unusual look of exhaustion on his face.

“How bad is it?” Pony asked quietly.

“One of the ghosted is a kid, no older than eleven or twelve,” He sighed.

“Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from the perspective of Dr. Death Defying! Hooray!  
> This is the shortest of all the short chapters, I promise.


	17. Calm After the Storm

Chapter 17: Calm After the Storm

  
The familiar burn of the bright desert sun was what brought him to a vague amount of consciousness. It was the aching pain in his arm, stomach, and much of the rest of his body that woke him up the rest of the way. With a groan, Patrick pushed himself onto his knees.

Squinting into the late morning sunlight, he looked around, trying to gain his bearings. He was on the side of a road, an old road with cracked pavement, in the middle of nowhere. There was no way of knowing what zone he was in, or even if he was in one of the designated zones. He figured he must be, because even though he didn't remember too much from the night before or how he had gotten here, he did remember running from the shop, and he couldn't possibly have run very far from Zone Three.

Forcing himself onto his feet, Patrick tried to remember as much as he could. Kidnapping, losing his hand, torture, the van, fire, his friends, running, fear. That's all he could get as he wandered slightly down the road, trying to ignore the painful soreness of his legs. Everything else was a blur, an odd blackness in between snippets of memories. He cursed himself internally. He should remember! He should remember where his friends went, what happened, what was going on. But he couldn't.

Patrick paused in his awkward, stumbling steps when he noticed something in the distance, obscured by the heat wafting off of the bleached pavement. It was on the road, and was kicking up dust, so he assumed it was a vehicle of some sort. Afraid that it might be a draculoid car, Patrick took a step off of the road, but stopped when he heard the rumbling noise that came along with it. After a few minutes, it came into better view, and he realized that it was a truck. A rusty truck, with a single person sitting inside. Not draculoids. Oh, thank god.

The injured man stuck his hand out and waved, trying to get the driver's attention. It worked, because the moment the driver got within twenty feet, she pulled over. He stumbled towards her.

The young woman's face contorted at the sight of him. “Whoa, are you okay?” She asked, seemingly concerned.

“Ye-” Patrick cut himself off, and cleared his dry throat. “Yeah, sort of. Well... not really,” He admitted.

“Do you...” The woman pushed a lock of straight brown hair out of her face as she thought. “Do you need a ride to the medical station?”

“M-medical station?” He asked. Since when did the zones have medical stations? Sure, there were a few people that acted as medics, but they didn't have stations or anything fancy.

“Yeah! Ya know, the one in Zone Two, run by those two doctors that left the city,” She replied. “It's a bit of a drive from here, but... you really look like you need the help.”

Patrick blinked and looked at his hand-stump. The hook was still of it. “Uh, y-yeah, alright.” He sighed, and squinted at the sky for a second. Where even was he? “What zone are we in?”

“Zone Four. You really got the shit beaten outta ya, huh?”

He scowled, and nodded. That was definitely an understatement, but it served its purpose as an explanation.

“Alright, just hop in on the other side.” She pointed with her thumb at the other door. “I'm Foxes, by the way.”

“Patrick,” He replied.

He circled the truck, and got into the rickety old thing. It made a lot of squeaking noises as he climbed in, and he was afraid of integrity of it. It seemed to be running just fine, though, so he tried to banish his fears of it breaking down in the middle of the road or falling apart under them.

They drove in silence, the only noise being wind coming in through the broken windows. Patrick stayed huddled against the door, a bit mistrusting of the woman driving out of the fear leftover from the previous night. Plus, he didn't exactly want to move, as he was still in pain. He stared out the window, watching the desert pass by- sand, sand, cacti, and more sand. That's all it was, until he saw something red.

“Hey!” Patrick exclaimed. “Pull over! Pull over!”

He waved a hand at Foxes, briefly looking over at the confused woman, and repeated his demand. She hit the breaks hard, and Patrick nearly slammed into the dashboard. The second they stopped, he jumped out of the car.

“What's wrong? What is it?” Foxes called after him.

It was Andy. He just knew that that familiar red was the red that only Andy's hair could be. He had never once seen somebody else with that same kind of ginger hair, and he doubted anybody in the desert besides his friends would leave their hair undyed like that.

Patrick walked as fast as he was capable of to get back to where he had seen his friend. He dropped to the sand next to his friend- he was right. It was Andy.

“Andy! Andy, wake up!”

He shook Andy's shoulder, silently praying the man wasn't dead. After a few seconds, he groaned into the sand and coughed. He pushed himself up and blinked at Patrick. Patrick let out an involuntary breath of relief.

“Patrick?” Andy asked groggily. A second later, her snapped up into a sitting position.

“A-Andy? What's wrong?”

The older man sighed. “Sorry, I, uh... everything just came flooding back.”

“I wish I could remember like that,” Patrick muttered, rubbing his head.

“You don't...?”

“Only a little.”

Andy managed to get onto his feet quickly, while Patrick struggled. His legs were too sore, and he only had the use of one hand. Pain shot through his stomach every time he tried to get off of his knees. He stopped trying a moment later, so he could catch his breath. Right when he did, though, he was being hauled onto his feet.

Patrick smiled at his friend. “Thanks,” He mumbled.

He turned back towards the truck. It was a bit away, and he could see Foxes standing outside of it, watching what they were doing.

“Uh, who's that?” Andy asked, taking a step backwards.

“That's Foxes. She offered to give me a ride to some neutral medical clinic,” Patrick explained, shrugging. “It's run by some doctors who left the city.

“I... think I've heard of that before.”

With a reassuring nod, the two men shuffled over to the truck. Patrick gave a vague explanation of who Andy was, and got back into his seat while his friend climbed into the bed of the truck. They started back down the road.

Andy was the one who spotted Joe, walking down the road a distance later. They found Pete ten minutes after that, hiding from something behind a large outcrop of desert shrubs. A wild dog, Patrick figured. He thought that a lot of those ran around out here. Or maybe he had gotten freaked out by a wavehead.

The three in the back chattered, discussing the previous night, as Patrick listened with his head stuck out the window. He didn't have anything to contribute to the conversation, not remembering much. Foxes let them drink from one of the four water jugs she had in the back, telling them she could spare a little of the precious liquid.

Eventually, the drive turned quiet, the only noise coming from the wind, the rumbling of the truck, and the wheels crunching on the sandy, cracked road. The virtual silence gave Patrick time to think, to try to remember more.

It was really surreal. After what was probably a few days of torture, pain, and unending fear, they were all gathered in a truck, safe, and everything was quiet. It felt wrong for everything to be so calm after such turmoil. Patrick had heard of the calm before the storm, but never the calm after the storm. He supposed because that didn't exist in the desert, since there was always the chaos of people going missing during sandstorms and things getting hit during thunderstorms.

It felt like he should still be running, still be panicked, breathing heavily, fearing for his life. But no. He was the exact opposite of that. He and his friends were safe, heading towards help, and it was probably a blessing.

Patrick didn't even know why they had been attacked. It had had to do with that gun, he knew that, the gun in the suitcase. He didn't understand why these woman couldn't just have knocked him consciousness, stolen the suitcase, and run off with it. They didn't need to torture him and his friends, and it was serious overkill for a gun that would most likely be mass produced soon enough. 

He supposed it didn't even matter if he remembered much else than what he already knew. What he remembered was awful, and he figured if he could remember anything else, it would just be worse.

The blond frowned, still frustrated at the lack of memory, but a little glad that he couldn't jog his memory even a little.

Before he realized how long it had been, the truck was parked and Pete was dragging him out to wrap him in a rib-crushing hug.

“Pete Pete Pete stop,” Patrick whined, pain shooting through his stomach.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” Pete squealed, letting go of him. “Oh god, you look worse.”

“Of course he looks worse, Pete, there's actually light out here,” Joe teased.

“Whatever, curly.”

“Is this the right place?” Andy asked.

They all turned to look at where they were. It was a large, long abandoned building, probably from before the wars. Most of the windows were knocked out, and the walls were filled with cracks. A battered up sign near the door read 'Linda Vista Community Hospital'.

“Who cares! We got away from those crazy bitches!” Pete cheered, suddenly excited. He raised both of his middle fingers to the universe as he did.

“Pete, we all care,” Andy replied calmly.

“Um, Foxes?” Patrick asked quietly, turning towards the woman leaning against her truck.

“Hm?” She replied.

“Are you sure this is the medical station? It looks kinda... desolate.” That seemed to be the most polite word he could think of for the place.

“Oh yeah, I'm sure. They have to stay on the down low, ya know? So they work out of the back of this old place, Linda Vista,” She explained.

“...It's a little big for neutrals, even if they are on the down low,” Joe commented.

Foxes shrugged, pushing herself off of the truck. “I guess the place still had equipment that they needed, so they took it.”

The others, especially Pete, seemed to take that as a plausible excuse. Patrick was a little wary, but... who even knew? So many weird things happened in the zones that basically nothing was unusual anymore.

Patrick followed behind his friends as they started heading towards the apparent medical station within the abandoned hospital. At of the corner of his eye, he saw Foxes leaning into her truck. A simple action, and he thought nothing of it.

A strange, staticy noise filled the air. The second it hit his ears, pain ripped through Patrick's skull and he lurched backwards. Spots danced in front of his eyes, blurring his vision. He clamped his eyes closed and slammed his hands over his ears, trying to block out the gut-wrenching sound that was making his head throb.  
Everything spun and Patrick stumbled. The pain started to subside after a moment, and he blinked open his eyes, but things were... different. Or was it the same? Jagged, bright but monotone, and hostile. It was like everything on fire.

“ 'Trick? Hey, what's wrong?” Pete asked, taking a careful step towards him.  
But that wasn't Pete. That couldn't be Pete! And that wasn't Joe, or Andy. These weren't his friends, they couldn't be. Not the way they looked, not with their teeth, their eyes... what the fuck even were these monsters?

Monsters. That's exactly what they were, nothing more, nothing less. They were going to hurt him. They were going to hurt his friends. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let some fucking monsters touch his friends!

The monsters were stepping towards him, saying something that he couldn't understand. They looked concerned, but he knew it was a ruse. They were bubbling with the same kind of rage he was- they wanted to kill him, but he was going to kill them first.

Patrick growled, a low, guttural growl, which evolved into a yell. He ran forward, straight at the monsters, who turned and ran into the hospital after stumbling for a moment in fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me forever to write this one. It's longer, too. I think the ending is a little iffy, but I tried my best.


	18. Running For Your Life

Chapter 18: Running For Your Life

  
This was not how things were supposed to be going. They were supposed to be being treated by some professional medics, not running through the halls of an abandoned, pre-war hospital trying to avoid getting attacked by their friend. Patrick shouldn't even be trying to attack them. Something was wrong with him.

While Andy and Pete continued to stop to try and open doors, Joe kept running. He would slow down a little, and look over his shoulder, to make sure he hadn't lost his two friends, but he kept running. This was his nightmare situation, and he wasn't about to let it take over him and result in his death.

Joe turned a corner. His foot caught on something, and he tripped, landing flat on his face. Pain spread through his nose, immediately causing it to throb, and blood started dripping from it. He pushed himself to his knees and carefully pressed the edge of his sleeve to his nose. He only forgot what he was doing there for a brief second, as he heard Patrick roar from somewhere behind him, far away but still close enough to be heard loud and clear. He scrambled to his feet and started running again, ignoring the fresh pain in the face.

He didn't even notice that his friends weren't with him anymore. His own footsteps echoed throughout the crumbling, dirty hallways, making it seem as though there was more than just him in the hall. He couldn't hear much over the sound of his own ragged breathing, his heart, and Patrick's distant yells.

This was wrong, he thought. All he could feel was fear and panic, and all he could think about was how wrong it was that he was running for his life from one of his closest friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's as super short filler chapter. Sorry about it being so short and only a filler, but I've been a bit busy, and I'm falling into an obsession with Kingdom Hearts. My brother is replaying the second game, and I watch the game when he plays, so I've been doing that instead of writing. He's going to let me borrow the first game, at some point, so I'll probably be playing that instead of writing, too. But don't worry! I'll to get at least one chapter up a week.


	19. Hallucinations in the Hospital

Chapter 19: Hallucinations in the Hospital

  
There are different colored lights flashing all around him, unusual sounds erupting from every crack and crevice in the crumbling building, and people, shadowy people following his every lurching step. Everything was loud and bright and annoying.

“Shut up, shut up!” Patrick shouted into the air, slamming a hand over an ear. He was trying to find the impostors that dared call themselves his friends, but the shadow people and the noises and the goddamn lights were too distracting.

He continued to alternate between yelling at the shadow people that where whispering and yelling behind him and in front of him, and shouting for the impostors. He wasn't even entirely sure if he was forming proper words, but what did that matter? If it scared the impostors as much as he was scared for his real friends, then good. That was the plan.

Patrick was scared, but he was mainly angry. Who the fuck were these people thinking they could masquerade as his best friends!? Every time a thought about the impostors popped into his head, rage seized in his chest. He would grab the nearest object and throw, trying to brake it, hoping that somehow it would hit one of the fake people, or one the shadow people and shut them up.

Everything was so confusing. Everything was wrong, off just by the littlest bit, and it only fed his angry and fear, which only made him more aggressive. He needed to fight, needed to kill those damn impostors, needed to make the noises and the light stop, make the shadow people go away and just stop talking, leave him alone!

He heard scurrying footsteps going to different directs, and he growled. The impostors were separated now, great, it was going to be harder to catch them. ...But easier to kill them individually.

With another shout at the shadow people to shut up already so he could hear where they were going, Patrick turned down in a hallway in pursuit of one of the impostors- the curly haired one, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another short one. The next one will probably be longer.  
> I may have it up later this week, but I may not. I have band camp next week, so don't expect anything then.  
> Wow, I really have to write more if I plan on making this into a series like I want.


	20. Expired Rubbing Alcohol

Chapter 20: Expired Rubbing Alcohol

  
Andy had been running for what felt like forever, and his legs were starting to burn from the effort. He couldn't hear Patrick anymore, no yelling, no growling, no stomping. He slowed himself down, and started to check each door in the hall he was currently in for an unlocked door.

At this point, Andy had realized he wasn't with his friends any longer, but that thought wasn't exactly at the front of his mind. The adrenaline caused by fear was draining away and the pain of his wounds was returning. He figured if he didn't clean the wounds soon, the pain would become unbearable, and the injuries would become infected.

He stopped in front of a door with a window, and peered inside. He could see old bottles of medicine and rubbing alcohol on the rusting metal shelves. The medicine would've gone bad by now, if all of it was from before the war, but if there was an unopened bottle of rubbing alcohol, it should be fine to use. It would sting like a bitch, and the pain wouldn't go away, but he wouldn't have to worry about infections anymore.

The handle for the door moved, doing the full turn that meant it should open, but the door didn't budge. With a huff, Andy hit his shoulder against the door until swung into the room and he stumbled forward. He caught his balance quickly, but couldn't keep himself on his feet for more than a few seconds. He sat himself down on the floor heavily, and leaned against one of the rusty metal shelves to support himself. He tapped the door with his foot until it was mostly closed.

Each breath was heavy, a bit ragged, and brought a new small surge of pain in his chest. It took a while, but eventually it evened out and Andy didn't feel like his lungs were going to collapse, or explode. Even for someone as athletic as himself, that much running, combined with injuries and mild panic, was never good for the lungs.

While catching his breath, Andy started to think, to ask questions. What the hell could they have done to Patrick to get him to act so aggressively? It was as if he didn't even recognize his friends, and saw them as a threat. All of it only started once Foxes had turned on her radio...

Andy slammed his fist down on the tiled floor, letting out a frustrated growl. Foxes hadn't been trying to help them, she had been part of the group trying to kill them! Whatever they had done, it seemed to have a similar effect on Patrick as the masks did on draculoids, except that it worked with a specific sound rather than a sight, and made him significantly more aggressive than any drac he had ever met. If he remembered how draculoidization worked correctly, then it would have been a painful process to have done it so quickly.

That was it. He couldn't stand to think of how terrible everything was without wanting to do something about it. There was no way he was about to let those women get away with hurting his friend so badly over a suitcase.

The killjoy kicked at one of the shelves, knocking down a fortunately unopened bottle of rubbing alcohol. He ripped off the tab and unscrewed the top. He lifted up his shirt, peeling it off of the most prominent, painful wound over his ribs, and took a deep breath before dumping the disinfectant over the cut. He yelled out, barely able to withstand the awful burning sting. He stopped pouring after a few seconds, believing the cut to be as clean and infection-proof as it was going to get, and then started carefully tending to the other cuts and scrapes on his body. When he finished, the small bottle was mostly empty, so he threw it across the room.

A shout resounded down the hallway. Andy snapped his attention to the door, waiting for more to come, but there was nothing else. Even so, he forced himself to his feet and left the room.

He started running again, against his pain and exhaustion. He needed to find Joe and Pete, and get out of this disgusting old hospital before they could figure out how to fix Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little longer than the last few! Yay!  
> I have band camp all next week, so most likely there won't be a chapter up, unless I can miraculously fight off my exhaustion, soar arms, and painful bruises.  
> Colorguard is dangerous, guys.


	21. Communicator

Chapter 21: Communicator

  
Pete only stopped running because he didn't know where he was anymore. The corridors all looked the same, and it didn't help that he hadn't been paying attention as he had been running, but that wasn't his fault. Who payed attention to where exactly they were going when they were running away in a panic?

Slowing down to a hurried walk, his mind was spinning with questions and fear for the answers of those questions. It was terrifying, watching his closest friend lurch in pain like he had, and suddenly want to kill them, and to not recognize them. Everything had been fine, but something had been triggered in Patrick, and Pete couldn't figure out what those woman could have possibly done to him to cause it.

A small noise, a yell in the distance, snapped him out of his swirling mind. It was a relief to stop thinking of everything spiraling in his head even for a second, because all the thoughts was dizzying. It reminded him of what it was like coming off of the pills in the city, and he hated the feeling. He wandered into the nearest room with a door that would open, fearing what might happen if he was caught out in the halls, even though the noise had resounded from somewhere far from him.

He could barely see anything in the room. There were no windows, no cracks that could let in any light. Frustrated and still filled with fearful adrenaline, Pete kicked the nearest thing to him. It made an odd clacking noise as it skittered across the floor. He stepped towards it, and picked it up, realizing that it was some sort of communicator.

He turned the dials to the frequencies he had memorized, and flicked the right switches, but nothing happened. No crackling noises, not even the odd beep that communicators occasionally made. He brought it closer to his eyes so he could get a better looked. There was a wire coming out from the back, wrapped around a small hook that stuck out from it. It needed to be plugged in. Damn, the thing must be old, probably from before the helium wars. Communicators hadn't needed wires in decades.

He needed to find a place to plug the communicator in. He needed to call for help. Pete clutched the old thing to his chest and slipped out of the dark room. It took him what felt like forever, but eventually he found a room about the size of a closet, filled with various wires connected to a million different sockets.

It didn't take long to find the correctly shaped socket. Most of them were way too big for the small plug, and anyway, they all had miscellaneous wires sticking out from them. He stuck the plug into the socket with a shaky hand, silently praying to nothing that the electricity was working for more than just the lights.

A few agonizingly long seconds later, static crackled from the near-ancient device, and Pete sighed loudly with relief. He started frantically turning the knobs and flipping the switches again, trying to find a channel that worked. He spoke into the communicator as he did, begging for somebody, anybody to pick up and help.

“What?” A static-covered voice cracked over the device.

“Oh thank god!” Pete exclaimed. Finally, some help! “We- m-my friends and I, I mean, we've been kidnapped, and injured, and now one of my friends has gone crazy. We're stuck in some abandoned hospital called Linda Vista and we need help, now, please!”

There was a moment of silence, where the only noise was Pete's nervous breathing and the crackling emitting from the old communicator. For a second, he was afraid that he had lost the channel or whoever was on the other end had hung up.

“Photon?” The voice crackled again. “Holy shit, Photon, this is Fun Ghoul.”

“Holy fuck!” Pete couldn't help but shout. “Shit, man, ya gotta get us out of this! We're gonna die, I swear. We need he-”

The panicked man cut himself off when a yell for quiet sounded at the other end of the hallway. His eyes snapped fearfully to the door to the room, and he silenced himself. More yells and growls sounded, alongside shuffling feet. His stomach clenched up, and Pete nearly started crying with how afraid he was of his own best friend.

“Ghoul, Linda Vista. It's a hospital somewhere, I don't know, and it's abandoned. Please, please, please come help us, please,” He begged, before ripping the communicator out of the wall and throwing it to the floor, not even giving Fun Ghoul a chance to respond. After that, he took off running again.

 

~00000~

 

“Photon? Photon!” Ghoul shouted into the trans am's communicator, to no avail. There was no one on the other side, Photon had left.

He slammed the speaker of the communicator back down, letting his worry and light fear change into frustration. Without even a second to breathe, he picked the speaker back up and called Party Poison's communicator, hoping that he wasn't too busy interrogating the neutrals of the town nearest to the Young Blood's shop to pick up the damn call.

“Hello?” Party asked.

“Party! Get the others and get your asses back to the trans am, now,” Ghoul ordered.

“What? Why? Don't boss me around.”

“I got a call from Photon, now get over here!”

He slammed the communicator down again, and got of the car. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with anybody's shit, even if it was just normal behavior for a human being. He was scared for his newest friends, and from the way Photon was talking and sounding, they were in deep shit.

In less than ten minutes, the other three of the Fab Four were walking up to the trans am, worry and confusion lining all of their faces to varying degrees.

Party threw his hands in the air when he saw Ghoul. “Okay, what the hell? You sounded incredibly worried, what's going on?”

“Does it have to do with the Young Bloods?” Jet Star asked, calmly.

Ghoul nodded. “Yes, it does. I got a call from Photon, begging for help. All I caught was 'Linda something' before he hung up.” He sighed. “Somebody was yelling in the background.”

“Wait, isn't that the abandoned hospital, um, Linda Vista?” Jet piped up.

“Off of Route Guano in zone two,” Kobra added.

“We should check it out,” Party decided, heading towards the drivers seat of the trans am.

“Should? You mean we have to, right? Because Photon was freaking the fuck out,” Ghoul said, disbelieving of how Party could be so goddamn calm.

“Yes, I mean we have to. Calm down.”

“Fuck if I'm going to.”

“Calm. Down,” Kobra insisted from the back seat.

Ghoul crossed his arms and rolled his eyes as Party started up the engine. As if he could calm down when people where being senselessly attacked in a freaky old hospital that was probably haunted. He didn't say another word as they drove off, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Band camp was rad.  
> So, I'm thinking of writing a fic related to this one explaining how the Young Bloods all met and came out into the desert to become the Young Bloods. What do you all think of that? I'm also thinking of a few others relating to other bands, but those'll come later.


	22. Main Objective

Chapter 22: Main Objective

  
Korse kept his stance professional as he walked into the large, pristine office. He stopped at the end of a long white table, and folded his hands behind his back. He didn't say a word, because very few people, not even prestigious exterminators such as himself, had the privilege of being able to talk to Isoda before she addressed you.

Isoda- or the director, as she was better known to the citizens of Battery City- sat at the opposite end of the long table, her back facing towards him. Her assistant, a red-haired woman, stood close to her side. She was writing something, obviously something important, and didn't seem like she would notice his presence.

“If it isn't about the suitcase, I don't want to know,” She informed him, without looking up.

“I have new information on the suitcase, ma'am,” Korse replied, emotionlessly.

The director paused in her writing and lifted her head up. She carefully handed whatever she was writing, along with the pen, to her assistant, and gestured for the small red-haired woman to leave. The woman quickly left the room, papers clutched to her chest. Isoda then stood, and walked towards Korse, heels clicking on the tiles. She stopped approximately three feet away from him, the correct professional distance for workers to stand apart from each other. Korse turned slightly, so as to face her directly.

“Go on.”

“We can safely assume that the enemy has the suitcase,” He informed her.

“And how do you know this?” She asked, though it was a demand.

“An informant from the zones surrounding the city heard of the men known as the 'Young Bloods' disappearing, and they were the last ones seen with the suitcase.”

Without a word, Isoda turned to have her back facing the exterminator once again. Her heels clicked as she made her way over to the large windows of the office. She stopped in front of them, overlooking the city, her hands calmly behind her back. He could only assume she was strategizing, trying to figure out a way to get the suitcase back in their own hands.

“The killjoys known as the 'Fabulous Four' are involved, as well,” Korse added. “They are attempting to rescue the Young Bloods.”

“Do they know about the suitcase?” She asked, remaining calm and collected.

“They seem oblivious,” He replied.

“Then they are unimportant.”

“But ma'am, it is my main objective to arrest or execute these rebels-”

Isoda cut him off, turning sharply on her heels and marching towards him, a certain venom written on her face, daring him to challenge her again.

“There women are trying to tear down this organization and our city, as well as the outlying zones! With the information they have in their hands- which, I remind you, was meant to be destroyed- they could easily do so. The killjoys have very little, if not nothing, to do with this. This in no way affects our current objective.”

She paused directly in front of him, mere inches away from his face. With her heels, they were eye-to-eye, and her eyes were burning with fury from the way he dared to talk back to her. He knew he had crossed a line, and he knew that this could come with many horrendous consequences, but his fear was so dulled that it allowed him to remain stoic. He stood, looking her directly in the eyes, his face serious but emotionless. He didn't move even a centimeter.

“You are to find these women's base of operations, retrieve the stolen suitcase, and if not that, at least the data contained within the gun. Then, you are to bring their leader, this 'Courtney Love' woman, so that I may initiate her punishment and death, and you will have the draculoids execute the remaining members of her cult.”

Her tone had calmed, back to its normal professionalism. Despite this, she took another threatening step closer to him, so that they were practically nose-to-nose. Even with the medication dulling his emotions, Korse still felt the few meant to be instilled by this nonverbal threat.

“You will not purposefully harm the killjoys during this operation, as they can lead us to the Young Bloods, who will lead us to our enemy.”

Isoda stepped back, returning to her usual proper stance, three feet away from him, still looking him directly in the eyes.

“Understand, Exterminator Korse?” There was a kind of hiss in her undertone, that suggested if he said no, he would be dead before he even realized what was going on.

“Yes, ma'am,” Korse replied.

She nodded her approval, and even gave him a vague semblance of a smile. She turned, and returned to her spot in front of the window. She waved her had dismissively.

Korse marched out of the room. If it weren't for the medication, he would've been boiling at that moment. Instead, though, all he felt was frustration over the fact that he was not following his primary mission, to take down the rebel leaders in the outlying zones. It was his life's work to do that, he would even go so far as to say it was his dream. Here was his dream, being shoved onto the back burner as though it were entirely unimportant, irrelevant, and not the city's main concern.

He marched down the hall of the building, giving a slight glare to any employee or draculoid that came within five feet of him. As he did this, he began to fill with a determination to take down their current enemy, these unnamed women. The faster he could take down the women, the faster he could get back to hunting down and ending the lives of those nasty killjoy rebels.

He left the building strategizing ways to get to the Young Bloods, so he could get the stolen information back and kill the bastard women, and get back on his main objective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ties into things that happen later in the story, just so you all know and don't get confused.  
> School starts up next week, so I'm not sure how fast I'm going to be able to get chapters out. This is also why I'm trying to write more, so I can get as many out as possible before then. I won't over work myself, no worries.  
> I'm going to be starting on the prequel to this soon, as well, once I can figure out at least the basics of the story.


	23. Blinded by Fury and Fear

Chapter 23: Blinded by Fury and Fear

  
Joe didn't stop running for a long time, not until he felt like he was far enough away- hopefully- from Patrick. He stopped for a second, in the middle of a hallway, to catch his breath. He leaned his arms on his knees, bending over to let oxygen flow into his lungs more easily. For the first couple of breaths, it felt like tiny needles were stabbing him.

The second he could breathe well enough, Joe began to check the rooms. All of the doors were locked, except for one that seemed to be some sort of examination room. It was nothing like the ones he remembered from the city when he was a kid, but still recognizable as what it was. An examination table sat in the middle, dented on the metal parts, with a torn fabric part. There was little else in the room, other than a few counters, some cabinets, and harmless items strewn around.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a scream pierced from another hall, yanking him from his thoughts on the room. A few seconds later, an angry yell responded to the scream. Panic tore through Joe's thoughts, and he could only hope that Patrick, or whatever the hell was possessing him, hadn't gotten to Andy or Pete.

He needed to hide. The scream and the yell had both been close, and he didn't want to risk getting caught by the monster that had taken over his friend. Glancing around the room again, he spotted the cabinets. He skittered over, opening each door to check what was inside. The bottom left one seemed to be the only one without a shelf or things inside it, so, with barely a second thought, he curled up inside and carefully shut the cabinet door without it pinching his fingers. What a dignified place for a killjoy to be hiding in, he thought sarcastically. But, he figured, it was better than being out there, hunted down by a friend.

Joe clasped his hands together and quietly prayed to whatever deity may exist, asking them to make Patrick snap out of it before anybody could get hurt more than they already were.

 

~00000~

 

There had been a scream. Somebody had screamed, in pain. That meant that they were hurt, which would make it easier to stop them, to get rid of which impostor he had heard. Patrick let out a yell, telling the shadow people to shut up so he could figure out where the scream had come from. A few of the shadow people, the less shadowy ones, pointed him down a hallway, telling him the scream had come from there. It was the same direction he had been in before, while chasing the impostor of Joe. He turned down the hall, carefully looking and listening for anything.

Patrick stopped for a second, glaring down the hall. It was incredibly long, longer than he figured any hallway could be. It was going to take forever to check every single room. Except, the doors looked pretty far apart. Then, it was just going to be the walking that took forever.

As he made his way carefully done the hallway, trying to be quiet amongst the noises of the shadow people and everything else, he looked in the small window on each door. The shadows were getting annoying, moreso than before, with how much noise they were making. They needed to shut up, and to shut up now, but he couldn't risk yelling at them again, so he just gritted his teeth and moved on to the next door.

When a piercing yell came from one of them, Patrick snapped around to bark at them, but caught something out of the side of his eye. He froze for a second, paused in the middle of a shout. He turned carefully back to the door, the voices finally quieting down. He peered in through the window and saw nothing. But he had seen something move! Somebody was in there, he was sure!

Carefully pushing open the door, Patrick tried to stay quiet. There was no use in scaring away whoever was in there. Scaring them would come later.

All there was in the room was some sort of examination table, cabinets, and a ton of things strewn about. He almost tripped over what appeared to be rope, or cables. It was hard to tell exactly what everything was, with how dark the room was.

Wait. Cabinets. That would be a perfect hiding place, wouldn't it? He went over to them, trying not to make much noise, and started carefully opening and closing each cabinet door. Nothing except broken shelves and old medical equipment. Then he opened the last one.

Patrick grabbed the fake Joe by the collar of his shirt and yanked him out of the cabinet. The man yelped and huffed when he hit the ground, fear marked all over his face.

Good. He should be scared. Anyone who pretended to be his friends should be afraid of him. The shadow people were yelling again, telling him to do it, just to do it, and he was going to. He was going to kill the bastard.

 

~00000~

 

Andy staggered down the hall, only going as fast as the throbbing pain in his side would allow him to. He didn't want to overexert himself, as that could have dire consequences, but he wanted to keep moving, to find his friends and get out of the old hospital.

He half dragged his left leg as he ran, figuring he must've pulled something. He kept moving, until he heard the thuds of someone else running down the hall he was about to turn into. Some one burst into view in front of him, and he froze in terror for a moment, thinking it might be Patrick. He quickly realized that it wasn't him. It was Pete.

Pete slowed down from his run, stopping just a few feet away from Andy. They both stood for a second, disbelieving, and then wrapped each other in a hug.

Pete laughed. “Holy shit, Andy! I thought I had lost you guys!”

“No way, man, I'm right here,” Andy chuckled in response.

The other killjoy squeezed Andy tighter, and he hissed in pain. Pete immediately jumped and let go, a panicked look on his face.

“Shit, I'm sorry! Oh, fuck, how injured are you?”

“Lower your voice!” He whispered-hissed at his friend, not wanting them to be heard. He sucked in a couple of breaths to help lessen the pain. “It's a scratch on my side, but I found some disinfectant, so I'm fine.”

“Disinfectant? That stuff's gotta be expired by now.”

He shrugged, not really caring. He just needed the peace of mind. “We better get going, unless we wanna get cornered.”

As soon as they started walking- though, it was a bit faster than that- Pete began to explain something. He had found a communicator, a pre-war one that needed to be plugged into a wall, and had managed to contact the Fabulous Four. He hadn't been able to say much before he heard screams, though.

“One of those screams was me,” Andy explained himself. “Disinfectant stings like a bitch.”

Pete opened his mouth as though he were about to say something, but was cut off by a shout, one filled with fear. It was quickly followed by an angry, aggressive shout. The two men looked at each other, the panic and concern in Andy's mind seeming to communicate over to Pete.

“Joe,” Pete said.

They took off running.

 

~00000~

 

Joe landed on the floor with a painful thunk, the air in his lungs forcing itself out. He stared up at Patrick, whatever was possessing him, filled with fear. He had an odd, devilish grin on his face, one that the normal Patrick could never have pulled off. He tried to push himself away, but was grabbed by his shirt and practically thrown onto the old examination table.

He tried to scramble up, but Patrick had grabbed a piece of wiring up off of the floor. He pressed it down hard on Joe's throat, cutting off his flow of oxygen.

Every single alarm went off in Joe's head. He couldn't breathe, he needed to breathe, Patrick was stopping him from breathing, he needed to fucking breathe! He kicked and struggled, thrashed his legs and feet, tried to pry the wire off of his throat, tried to pull his friend's hand off of the wire. Nothing worked. Nothing was getting in to his lungs, and his vision was going blurry. Things seemed to tunnel outward, and any noises dulled, almost muting themselves. He could feel the strength slipping from his limbs, and the warmth bleeding from his skin. It was getting harder and harder to move.

The last thing he saw before blacking out was the unnatural shade of yellow that glowed from Patrick's eyes.

 

~00000~

 

Shouting, yelling, screaming. That's all the shadow people ever did. They were shouting something he couldn't really understand and didn't want to understand as he strangled the Joe-impostor. He didn't care what they had to say about this, he just wanted the impostor dead, and he was achieving that.

When the impostor stopped thrashing, two sets of hands grabbed him and forced him off of it. He roared at them, brandishing the hook replacing his hand at them. They both jumped back. He yelled, trying to form the right words. How dare they pull him off of... of... of Joe.

He hadn't noticed, having been blinded by his rage, but the weird lights, the shadow people, and the strange noises had all started to dissipate. The impostors... weren't impostors, he realized. They were his friends. His actual friends.

And... he had strangled Joe.

All of his angry and rage left, leaving Patrick only with a feeling of emptiness and shock in his chest. Pete and Andy were standing in front of him, defensive, scared, nervous to approach him. He blinked a few times, thinking. He had been hallucinating, he had gone temporarily crazy, but it had resulted in one of his closest friends being suffocated.

“Patrick?” Pete asked, taking a careful step towards him.

Patrick lurched back at the movement. He didn't want to hurt his friends, he hadn't meant to hurt anyone at all! He stared at Joe, his unmoving body, and stumbled backwards as another wave of shock and the dreadful feeling of being a murderer washed over him. Pete and Andy jumped forward, each grabbing one of his arms before he could fall over.

“Oh, God,” Patrick breathed, his voice shaking. “What did I do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, Joe's dead.


	24. Aren't Killjoys For Nothing

Chapter 24: Aren't Killjoys For Nothing

  
They saw the commotion before they were even at the front door of Linda Vista. Party pulled the trans am up next to the sun-bleached sign advertising the name of the hospital, and the four of them jumped out of the car just barely after the engine was turned off.

A group of people, kind of ragged-looking but not to the point that they needed to be concerned, were dragging three recognizable people out of the building and towards their set of cars. Photon and Edge were struggling slightly against the men, but appeared too weak or something to fight back much. The weirdest part was Truant Soul. He wasn't struggling at all, just letting them usher him away, completely compliant, but he seemed out of it.

“What the hell?” Fun Ghoul exclaimed, mildly outraged by the sight.

“I think they're one of those neutral police forces,” Jet Star mused. “Ya know, the ones that protect neutral towns, kick killjoys out when they need to, stuff like that.”

Ghoul gaped with indignation. “The hell are they arresting them for!?”

Pausing for a second, he could hear what they were talking about. Edge and Photon kept asking about somebody named Joe, asking where he was, why they weren't helping him, what they were going to do about him. One of the neutrals got fed up, and shouted something about him being too far gone to help, that it would be a waste of resources.

Gritting his teeth with his anger, Ghoul marched towards these apparent police officers, closely followed by the others. He was going to say something, give them a piece of his mind, but Party stepped forward, taking over the situation.

“Hey, man. Mind telling us what's going on?” It wasn't actually a question, not with the tone he used.

“We're taking those three over there in,” The neutral replied casually, gesturing to three Young Bloods.

“Why's that?” Party asked, crossing his arms. “The building's abandoned, not condemned, and it's not like they're causing any harm by being here.”

The neutral glowered at them, obviously frustrated by their questioning of his authority. Ghoul wanted to punch him in the face, wipe that stupid look right off of it. He understood that neutrals didn't like being bossed around or questioned by killjoys, but man, was this guy being a prick.

“What don't you jackasses just back off?” He growled.

He stepped forward and pushed Party, hard, knocking the redhead to the ground. Without a thought, other than towards his own anger, Ghoul whipped out his gun and pointed it at the scrawny neutral man, flicking the safety off as he did. He would've pulled the trigger, but Kobra jumped on him and forced his arm down, pointing the gun at the cracked desert dirt. He kept his teeth gritted, hard, and struggled slightly against his friends' grip, but didn't try to push him off. He didn't let go of the gun, either.

He could feel the eyes of others on his back, but he kept his gaze glaring at Kobra Kid. Kobra stared right back, his oddly calm expression daring him to fire the gun, but at the same time, telling him that he understood his anger and didn't blame.

“Let go of the gun, Ghoul,” He ordered, voice calm.

Ghoul hesitated, clenching his teeth in anger. After a moment, though, of staring into Kobra's daring yet understanding eyes, he groaned irritatedly and let go, dropping his arms to his sides and turning away from his friend.

“Hey! Party! Jet!” Someone shouted. “Kobra!”

Looking over, Photon was shouting at them. He had gotten one arm free and was waving at them, calling them over, asking for there help. The neutral that was on him reached up and grabbed his wrist, forcing his arm back down. Truant was already in the car, and now they were shoving Edge and Photon in, as well.

Party was on his feet again. He took a threatening step towards the neutral, as well as the one that had come over during their almost-fight.

“One or both of you is going to tell me what the hell is going on, right now,” He demanded.

The second neutral was the one to speak up. “A lady offered us two hundred carbons to bring her the blond-ish guy, with the hook hand.”

“You can't do that, you corrupt assholes!” Ghoul snapped, taking a step forward, clenching his hands into fists. Party put a hand on his chest, holding him back. He clenched his fists tighter.

“We'll give you something better than carbons if you let us take the three of them,” Party attempted to negotiate.

The first neutral rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like you guys have something better than money we can use to buy supplies.”

Party glared. “You don't know what we have or how we live, kid.”

The second neutral, definitely the smarter one out of the two, took a slight side step so that she was almost in between the killjoy and her partner.

“Look, we need the money,” She said to Party. “But the lady only wants the really short guy. You can pick up the other two from us in town, okay?”

The car the Young Bloods had been forced into was leaving. Without another word, but a quick nod of Party Poison's head, the four got back into the trans am and started following them to whatever neutral town they were going to. It was completely silent for a few minutes, except for the rushing wind in the windows.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Party's voice was calm, but he didn't even glance in the mirror back at Ghoul.

Fun Ghoul sighed, looking down at his feet on the dirty floor of the car. He was ashamed, just a little, of overreacting so badly. Overreaction weren't something they could afford, not with how much trouble it could bring them.

“I just... I saw how desperate and hurt and miserable they all looked,” He began to explain, leaning forward to press his forehead against the back of Jet Star's seat. “It pissed me off that some stupid neutrals were making them suffer more just for some money. I mean, you saw them! They've been through hell.” He sighed. “I just snapped when he pushed you. I wouldn't have actually shot the guy.”

The car was silent again, for a few dreary seconds. This time, Party sighed. Ghoul saw him run a hand through his hair in the mirror. This was stressing him out, too.

“Some neutrals really struggle to get the things they need out here, even more than we do, even with the catalogs for Better Living products,” Party said.

“I know.”

“Two hundred carbons could feed them for a few months, at least on zone-grown food.”

“I know.”

“They're skinnier than we are, even Kobra,” Jet added.

“I know.”

“What they do is probably volunteer work,” Party continued. “Accepting bribes is probably their only way of getting the money they need for food and medical supplies, even if it isn't the most moral thing to do.”

“I know!” Ghoul shouted. He punched Jet's seat a few times, letting out his frustration. “I know, I know, I know! I know all of this, stop repeating it! It's just... it's wrong! It isn't fair that others have to suffer so that they can what they need!”

The car grew quiet once again, save for the wind and Ghoul's heavy breathing. Party reached his hand back, keeping the other on the steering wheel. Ghoul took it and held onto it, squeezing tightly.

“I know, Frankie,” Party said, voice soft. “Nothing out here is fair.”

Kobra placed a hand on his friends' shoulder, and Ghoul turned his head so he was looking at him. The skinny man had a comforting smile on his face. He handed him his gun back, which Ghoul took and reupholstered with his free hand.

He let go of Party's hand a few minutes later, and sat up so he could look in the mirror. The red-haired leader glanced at him through the reflective glass, smiling slightly.

“We'll get them back, don't worry,” He reassured. He looked away from the mirror. “We aren't killjoys for nothin'.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in two hours. Success.  
> I'm working on the plot for the prequel to this, and I'm starting a series based off of A Little Less Sixteen Candles. Neither will be up for a while, probably.


	25. Neutral Prison

Chapter 25: Neutral Prison

  
Andy ran a hand over his face as he listened to Pete argue with the neutral police officer. He covered his ears, trying to lessen the noise to spare his poor aching head. Everything bounced around and amplified in the tiny, barely lit room. What helped even less was the fact that both of them needed some sort of medical treatment and neither of them were getting it.

“Okay, just tell me exactly what happened,” The neutral sighed.

“We already told you!” Pete yelled, his face red from frustration.

“I don't believe you!” The neutral shouted back, stepping towards the table the two were sat at. “Mind control and hypnotism are not possible!”

“Really?” Andy snapped, glaring up at the other man. “With all the technology that Better Living has, you really think that mind control isn't possible?”

The neutral rolled his eyes, backing up so he was leaning against the wall again. He crossed his arms, and Andy sneered. This guy had some serious attitude. It was making him feel sick.

“You two must be in denial.”

Andy looked at Pete, who looked back him. They shared the same incredulous expression, and obviously the same opinion. This neutral was an idiot, and they needed to get the hell out of this room before they both went insane, or else caught the stupidity. It seemed like it would be contagious.

“You can't hold Patrick,” Pete said suddenly, turning back to the officer. “He didn't do anything!”

“He killed your friend,” He replied coldly.

“Joe's dead because of you!”Andy shouted, slamming his hands down on the table, unable to control his anger anymore. No one was putting the blame on Patrick. Absolutely no one. He pushed himself up until he was standing. “Patrick would never hurt any of us on purpose! He couldn't have, he's too good! The only explanation is that those women hypnotized him, or-or something!”

The small room, for the first time since they had gotten there, was completely silent, save for Andy's harsh, angry breaths and the buzzing of the fluorescent lightbulb above them. The sudden flash of energy left him quickly, and Andy sat back down, keeping his eyes on the table. He winced as pain flooded into his side again, hissing slightly through grit teeth. He didn't even have to look at Pete to know the concerned look that had to be on his face. A freak out from him was always a cause of concern for his friends, he knew.

 

~00000~

 

Party Poison stood, arms crossed, in front of the ratty, falling apart desk in the neutral's apparent police station. The others stood behind him as he glared down the neutral who was casually leaned back in his chair, behind the desk.

“I'm going to ask you one more time,” Party said slowly, carefully punctuating the last three words, keeping his eyes on the too-calm neutral. “Show us where Polar Photon and Anarchy Edge are.”

“Can't,” The neutral replied, for the millionth and single most annoying time.

“You said we could pick them up here in town.” He wasn't in the mood for dealing with the asshole who had knocked him over.

“You're gonna have to wait.”

The neutral smirked, and turned back to his zine. Party grit his teeth to stop himself from snapping and making some idiotic, snarky comment that would probably get him punched. He tried to keep his calm, but on the occasion he actually got angry, such as now, that was an impossibility. He slammed his hands down on the desk, making the neutral jump and drop his zine.

“There may be some sort of fucking warrant out of Truant Soul, but you've got nothing on Edge and Photon,” He growled, leaning towards the younger man, who tried to move his seat away from the redhead. “So you better let them go before this gets any uglier than it already is, punk.”

The neutral officer stood up, seeming to shake slightly from the intimidation. He walked out from behind the desk, and gestured for them to follow him. After a second, though, he paused and stared at them with wide eyes.

“Just him.” He pointed at Party, who quirked an eyebrow. “I-I don't want you guys causing any trouble back here, so just him.”

Party could hear Fun Ghoul snicker as he walked away, and he couldn't help a smirk forming on his lips, either. The kid was frightened of them. After all, Ghoul had pointed a gun at him, and Party and pretty much threatened to kill him. None of them would ever act on those threats, but their guise of seriousness in threats and their reputation as hardcore rebels really helped speed things along in situations like this one.

Now, finally, they were getting somewhere with finding their allies. It pissed him off that they couldn't take Truant back with them, too, and that no one seemed to know where the hell Ruby Star was, but they were getting Photon and Edge. That was progress in finding them all, and it was better than nothing, much better than just having a burnt down building and irritating neutrals to deal with.

 

~00000~

 

Pete kept a comforting hand on Andy's back. He muttered the most comforting things he could think of to him, which weren't very good, but he was trying to be helpful. Andy sat hunched over in pain, not saying a single word or showing an indication that Pete was helping at all.

Being comforting was a difficult thing in the first place, and it didn't help that he had a stomachache that only seemed to be worsening. He pushed back the thought of vomiting, and tried to focus on keeping Andy calm so his pain could subside.

He was trying to think of something else to say to his friend, when the cramped room's door swung open. A second neutral walked in, looking slightly afraid. He whispered a few things to the neutral on the wall. Before the first neutral could react, a familiar head of red hair marched into the room, barely glanced around, and kneeled down next to Andy.

“Hey,” Party Poison said softly, his tone much more comforting and soft than Pete could ever get his to be. “You guys alright?”

Andy shook his head in response, cringing again. Pete frowned deeply with concern. He just wanted to make his pain stop. He couldn't stand watching his friend like this.

“I-I think he aggravated an injury,” He said.

“Photon,” Party said, looking over at him with oddly kind brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

Pete shrugged. He honestly didn't know, not with one friend in jail, one potentially dead, and the other horrible pain, not to mention his stomach churning annoyingly.

“C'mon, we're getting you guys out of here.” Party stood up. “We'll take you back to the diner and patch you up, alright?”

The both of them hoisted Andy onto his feet, but only Party had the strength to half-carry, half-drag the man out into the lobby. Pete trailed quietly behind them, sending a choice glare at the neutrals leaned up against the interrogation room wall. One of them sneered back, while the other just blinked. He vaguely wondered what Party had done to scare the guy so badly. Mostly, though, he didn't care.

Once in the lobby, Jet Star immediately took Andy from Party, and started carefully walking him out to the trans am. He looked at the others as they walked out over the sand. Fun Ghoul seemed pissed off, which didn't entirely surprise him, while Kobra Kid had a resting look of stoicism. He guessed that Kobra wasn't actually as closed off and cold as he appeared, that it was probably just some sort of coping mechanism for anxiety, or he was just putting up a tough front to get by. It wouldn't be all that weird, he'd met a lot of people tha-

A wave of nausea slammed into Pete's back, forcing him to keel over. He landed with a harsh hit to his knees, but that didn't even register when the bile and blood forced its way up his throat onto the burning sand. He coughed and gagged, letting tears trickle out of his eyes when his stomach tried to force up more when there was nothing left for him to throw up. Someone started rubbing his back while he dry heaved, possibly saying something to him, but he couldn't hear other his own coughs and gags and retches.

It took what felt like forever, and black dots were dancing in front of his vision, but he finally stopping heaving. He took in deep, ragged breaths, trying to get some damn air into his lungs so he didn't pass out into his own vomit. He watched dizzily as a mixture of blood and spit dripped out of his mouth.

“C'mon, Photon, let's get y-”

“Pete!” He snapped, blood splattering onto his hands, interrupting Kobra. Everyone was silent.  
He was so, so sick of that name. Polar Photon, the killjoy. He was a fucking killjoy, but right now, he didn't want to be a fucking killjoy. He'd been kidnapped, tortured, tied up, chased, and he had to watch his best friend murder his other best friend. He didn't want to be Polar Photon, the killjoy, after all of that. He wanted to be Pete Wentz, the guy who just threw up his own blood.

“My name,” He panted, “is Pete.”

The hand slipped off of his back, and he had to blink a few times when met with Kobra's brown eyes. They looked just like his brother's eyes, just as kind and welcoming, just as worn.

“Okay, Pete. I'm Mikey.” He smiled.

“Mikey,” Pete repeated. He shifted so he was sitting rather than leaning over. When his head stopped spinning, he pointed at his friend, who was staring. “That's Andy. Ruby Star is Joe, and Truant Soul is Patrick.”

Everyone shifted ever so slightly. Mikey sat down next to Pete, Andy cringed, Ghoul looked over at Party Poison, and Party and Jet Star looked at each other.

“Jet, bring E- I mean, Andy. Bring Andy to the trans am,” He ordered quietly. Jet nodded and practically carried the man to the car. “Ghoul, you can have the passengers seat.” Ghoul nodded as well, running to the vehicle.

“We're gonna go to the diner,” Kobra said, hefting Pete up.

Pete's head spun again. He tried to shake his head to make it stop, but it wouldn't. He closed his eyes. Kobra put his arms on his shoulder, and he leaned onto the skinnier man for support.

“What about Patrick?” He asked hazily, just now remembering that he had gotten arrested, too.

Just as Pete managed to get his eyes open, Party took a careful step towards them, a kind smile of sorts playing on his face.

“They wouldn't let any of us see him, no matter what we did or said,” He explained. “But don't worry, Pete. We'll find a way to get him back. I promise.”

Party put his arm around Pete's shoulders as well. The two brothers helped him walk to the trans am, and carefully sat him down. Closing his eyes again, he leaned against the leathery seats, not caring how hot they were. He was just glad he could finally let his defenses down.

He trusted them, he realized. Even though he had only met them a few ago, he trusted them. He knew that Party Poison wasn't lying when he said they'd get Patrick back. He trusted them to do what they said. They'd get Patrick back, no problem.

 

~00000~

 

Patrick sat behind the battered, handmade jail cell bars, feeling like absolute shit. His arm was practically throbbing, every inch of him hurt, and not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure he had just killed one of his closest and oldest friends. He had never felt this awful, not even when he had been coming off of the pills back in the city and didn't know how to control his emotions. Nothing was worse than this.

He was pulled out of his reverie by a set of shouts at one end of the police station, and then a second at the other end a few minutes later. A neutral, other than the one silently watching over him, walked up the poorly made cage, frowning.

“Your friends are gone. They left,” He announced.

“Why can't I go with them?” Patrick asked wearily. What exactly did he mean, they left? They wouldn't leave him, not on purpose, at least.

The neutral just frowned more, if that were even possible, and walked away with another word. With a quiet sigh, he returned to wallowing in his misery while trying not to cry. It was hard, not crying when you had just murdered your friend against your own will.

He sat for what felt like, to him, hours and hours. He could hear people talking now, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. The talking stopped abruptly, and two women, the two women that had tortured him and cut off his hand, sauntered into the room.

Seized by a sudden rush of fear and energy, Patrick scrambled to the back of his cell. The neutral who had been watching him unlocked and opened the door, allowing the women in. He yelped, trying to get farther away from them, but there was a wall in the way. They grabbed him and started dragging him, forcing him to walk and follow them.

He frantically tried to force them off of him, but in his state, they were a million times stronger. He continued to struggle despite that. He couldn't go back to where ever it was that they had been, he couldn't. He would not let them hurt him anymore, or hurt his friends. He didn't want more torture, hadn't he been hurt enough?

Before he was dragged outside, he noticed a third woman handing a handful of carbons over to a smirking neutral. His last thought before everything went black was that everyone out here must be dirty, desperate assholes, if they were willing to put a man's life in danger for some money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at transitions! Oh well, I have time to improve my writing.  
> Anyway, I was going to post this on Saturday, but then I got super busy.  
> So, five days and a crap ton of crap later, here's a new chapter.


	26. Breathing

Chapter 26: Breathing

  
Joe felt as if his lungs were filled with sharp shards of glass and his head was about to split open. There wasn't an upside to how he felt at all, other than the fact that he was breathing. He layed where ever he was, just staring at the ceiling, trying to think past the throbbing that seemed to go right down into his brain.

He didn't know where he was. He knew there was a ceiling, and a pretty nicely kept one too, so he had to be indoors, especially since he was on a bed. That's all he could figure out.

Oddly enough, he wasn't panicked at all. Well, with everything that had happened over the past couple of days, what with the torture and almost getting strangled by his best friend, he didn't really find being in a random room all that terrifying. It wasn't clean enough to be a Better Living hospital, anyway.

Hoping to get a better look at the room, Joe tried to push himself onto his elbows, or sit up, but someone grabbed his shoulder and carefully pushed him back down. It didn't take much.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” A man with stark black hair showed up in his line of sight. “Don't do that! Geez, kid, don't get yourself killed right after I found ya nearly dead.”

Joe blinked. That explained it. A good samaritan had found him, almost dead, in that hospital, and had taken back to whatever this place was. He still wanted to sit up, though. He pushed himself up a little again, which just resulted in his lungs screaming with a sharp pain. He struggled to get a breath in. He was exerting himself too much for the recovering organs to handle, even if he was just trying to sit rather than lay down.

The man rolled his eyes. He reached his hands behind Joe's back and pulled him up, so that the killjoy was sitting up, but leaned against his pillow. Joe coughed a few times, but was relieved to feel air flowing into his lungs again, the glass-like stabbing pain subsiding to a bearable level.

“Who are you?” He asked, noting the odd hoarseness in his voice.

“Mayhem Method, your resident retired killjoy,” He said with a smile, and a chuckle. “Most people call me Tommy nowadays, not to be confused with that Chow Mein guy. And, uh, who exactly am I talking to?” He asked nicely.

“Oh, uh, I'm Joe.”

“Kid, I know you're a killjoy. What's your 'joy name?”

Joe was taken slightly aback. “...Ruby Star.”

“Ah!” Tommy exclaimed. “You're one of the Young Bloods!”

“How do you- how do you know that?” Seriously, almost nobody knew them, as far as he could tell.

“You guys are getting pretty famous with those ladies trying to kill you and all!” Tommy laughed. “Is that why I found you half-dead in an abandoned hospital?”

Joe wasn't sure how to answer that. It was the all of those women's fault, technically, but Patrick had been the one to actual try to kill him. But that wasn't really Patrick, was it? It was something possessing him, the same way something always seemed to possess the draculoids.

“Uh... sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Well... they made something possess my friend, Patrick. He did the actual almost-murder, but it wasn't his fault! He was possessed, I'm serious,” He insisted.

“Hey, don't worry, I believe you. With all the crazy stuff going on that definitely isn't caused by Better Living, I'd be an idiot not to.”

Good, he supposed that was good. He didn't really have to explain anything. Tommy, on the other hand, started explaining how he had found the younger man. He had been on a supply raid, looking for anything he might be able to salvage and use. He had stumbled across the barely breathing Joe while looking for wires, and had practically dragged him back to his own home base. He had given Joe a small dosage of some Better Living medicine to help the healing process along, so he would wake up sooner. He didn't exactly like the thought of having those drugs in his system again, but it was better than being in a coma, or dead.

He hesitantly reached a hand towards his throat, running his fingers gingerly over the skin. He could tell it was bruised, from the odd pain in it and from the way it seemed to ache when he touched it. His friend had done this. But not his friend, his friend, but possessed. It was complicated, and it made his already throbbing head hurt more. It hadn't been the real Patrick, it couldn't have been him. His eyes had been a freaky shade of yellow. Patrick had blue eyes, not freaky glowing yellow eyes. It hadn't been Patrick, he convinced himself.

“Hey, Joe, don't worry, man,” Tommy reassured him. “I'm gonna send you to my friend Rocket Man. He knows more about this stuff than I do.” He chuckled in a nostalgic seeming manner. “He'll help get those crazy chicks off you and your friends' backs, no problem.”

“Thanks,” Joe said, smiling. It would be great if Rocket Man could do that.

“No problem. I don't believe in my own kind getting left behind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lame short chapter! Joe isn't dead!  
> And you all know who Rocket Man is, don't lie.
> 
> UPDATE(October 5th, 2015): So I've been super stressed and had some serious writers block/lack of energy lately. Plus, I really want to work more on other stories I have. I'm putting this fic on a temporary hiatus. I may even not post until I finish writing the entire thing! I'm not sure yet. Hiatus may last only until next month, may last longer than that. But no worries, I'm still working on it.


	27. Patching Up

Chapter 27: Patching Up

Jet tore another piece off of what used to be a sheet, but that they had repurposed to use as bandages. He folded it up a few times and then wrapped it around a cut on Andy's arm, tying it tightly enough so that it wouldn't fall off. With the amount of cuts and abrasions on Andy and Pete, they had run out of the few actual bandages they had pretty quickly.

“Hey, Kobra, could you grab those painkillers and some water, please?” Jet asked, turning towards his friend, who had been helping him patch up the other two 'joys. Kobra nodded and got up, heading towards the kitchen.

“Painkillers?” Pete asked, a little nervous.

“Yeah, painkillers,” Jet said with a small nod. “We always keep some around in case any pains get unbearable. They're really low-grade, only meant to help with small headaches and stuff, so there's no need to worry. With the condition you two are in, you're gonna want to take them.”

Kobra walked back into the room, placing a glass of water in front of both Andy and Pete, and dropping a BL/ind-marked pill bottle into Jet's hands, before slipping into the seat next to Pete, who was, apparently, his new best friend. Jet popped the lid off of the bottle handed the two of them three pills each. He figured it couldn't hurt them to take more than the recommended dosage, what with just how many injuries they had.

He started cleaning up his medical supplies, shoving the torn-up sheet in with the small bandaids, scissors, stitches, herbal mixtures, and whatever other things he had thrown in the bag. He zipped it closed and walked off to the little storage area they kept in the back, shoving it back onto its overcrowded shelf. A few things fell off, and he bent down to grab them.

The communicator beeped in the other room. He heard Kobra pick up the receiver and say something into it. He walked back out of the storage area, raising an eyebrow at Kobra, asking who was on the other end.

“It's Cherri and Grace,” the younger man replied. Jet walked around the counter and grabbed the receiver from Kobra. Cherri was talking, something about his car getting jacked, and that he had suspicions that it had been that guy who had burst into Tommy Chow Mein's shop earlier.

“Hey, Cherri,” Jet interrupted, before Cherri could finish whatever he was saying. “Oh, hey, Jet.” His voice came through with a coating of static. “What's the news?”

“Well,” he sighed. “We got two of 'em, the Young Bloods, that is. Polar Photon and Anarchy Edge.” It already felt weird to be calling them by their killjoy names. “We're still working, though. Gotta get the others back.”

“Should I keep watching Grace, then?” Cherri asked, though he probably had figured out the answer already.

“Yes, please. We'd appreciate it.”

“Wanna talk to her?”

Jet smiled. “Of course!”

There was a crackling sound before a tiny voice sounded through the machine. “Hello?”

“Hey, Gracey,” he greeted. “How are you?”

“I'm worried.” Grace was never one to hide how she felt, even at such a young age. “About you guys.”

“Hey, we're gonna be just fine. We found Edge and Photon. They're going by Andy and Pete now.”

“Andy and Pete. Okay.”

“And we're looking for Truant and Star right now, alright? They're names are Patrick and Joe.”

“Okay. Well... I'm gonna let you go back to saving people now, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart. You be good for Cherri.”

There was more crackling as the receiver was switched again. “See ya, man,” Cherri said, before hanging up.

Jet hit the 'end' button, and clicked the receiver back onto its clip. He smiled to himself for a little bit, feeling relieved that they had made the decision to temporarily leave Grace with Cherri. It worried him whenever they got into dangerous situations. There was always a chance that one day they would make the wrong decision and Grace would get hurt, but there was an even greater chance that they would get hurt and leave the little girl behind. Both thoughts left him with a sour taste in his mouth. For now, though, he would just think about how she was safe.

“Was that that little girl who came into the shop with you guys?” Andy asked. Jet looked over at him, and walked to the table, sitting down.

“Yep, and Cherri Cola.”

“Uh, could I... I was kinda wondering, how come you guys have to take care of her?” Pete questioned, attempting to keep his words careful. “Is she one of your guys's kid?”

“Um, no,” the older killjoy started off, only to be interrupted by Kobra, much to his relief. The issue of who Grace 'belonged' to was a touchy one for him.

“She's our friends kid. Our friend died a little while after Grace was born.” He explained it so casually, like it was nothing. Jet knew, though, that Kobra was just burying his feelings underneath his stoic attitude. “Party insisted we raise her. Said it would be the best way to honor our friend.” He flicked at something on the counter, not looking up. “My brother... feels like it's his duty to care for Grace, even though he isn't her father. He wouldn't give her up if it meant saving the whole world.”

There was silence, except for the buzzing of the lights and occasional rattling of the windows from a passing desert breeze. It was a sad silence, but one with a happier feeling behind it.

“Well, she sounds like a really good kid,” Andy complimented. “She's lucky to have you four raising her. No one better to take care of a kid out here.”

Jet and Kobra both smiled, with Kobra finally looking over at them from the counter. Jet swelled with pride. There wasn't a better compliment out there, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo friends, I'm finally back after, like, four months or whatever.  
> Be expecting at least one or two more chapters this week, as I don't have school. After that, maybe a chapter a week until summer vacation.  
> I am hoping to start writing that bandom private school au I mentioned a long while back. but I ain't making any promises until I finish this one!  
> -Mel


	28. Information

Chapter 28: Information

 

Kobra Kid nodded his head as Andy continued to explain the mechanics behind drums. He wasn't entirely sure when the conversation had headed in that direction, and he didn't really understand what was being said, but it was better than keeping every ounce of focus on their situation. That could just lead to panic, he knew.

Their voices remained low as they spoke, what with Pete being asleep, curled up on the seat of the next booth over. They had been trying to build a house out of playing cards, just to pass the time, and Pete had sort of passed out half way through, knocking the whole thing over.

The hushed conversation ended abruptly when the diner's door rattled open. Party Poison and Fun Ghoul walked inside, back from their little 'mission' to find out anything they could about whatever the hell was going on.

“Did you find something out?” Andy asked without hesitating.

Party nodded in response.

“Yo, Jet!” Ghoul shouted.

They found something out. Good, Kobra thought. Maybe it was a lead on Patrick, or something like that. He got up and went over to Pete, tapping him on the shoulder. The man stirred, but it took some shaking to get him to wake up completely. The six men gathered around the counter, with Party leaning up against it, looking ready to take charge, like he already had a plan. Knowing him, he probably already did, at least for this meeting.

“Alright, I'm gonna start by explaining some stuff to you two,” the redhead started, looking at Pete and Andy. “Otherwise half of this won't make sense. We didn't figure out you guys had been kidnapped for a while, but I had suspicions because one of you left a car here, no money, no note.”

“Who's car was it?” Pete asked.

“It has a weird bear cartoon on the hood,” Kobra supplied.

“Joe's,” Andy said with a nod.

“Anyway,” Party continued. “When we found out, we had Dr. D send out a transmission, and-”

“Hold on,” Pete interrupted. “How'd you even find out?”

Party's nose scrunched up. That question hadn't been a part of his plan, and now he was at a loss. This happened far too often in conversations like these. The older man looked around at his fellow 'joys for a second, his expression desperately asking somebody to answer. Kobra kept his face passive. He wasn't about to answer, either. They both looked at Jet Star, causing every other head in the room to look over, too. Jet pulled at a strand of curly hair. He didn't want to answer either, it seemed, but he took in a breath to start talking, despite that.

“Cherri called, telling me something was going on,” He began. “Some guy almost in hysterics had come into Tommy's shop, just covered in blood, talking about you guys.” He looked at the two Young Bloods. “He ran out when Cherri mentioned your guys's shop.”

“What's... do you know his name?” The way Pete looked, it was as if he knew who they were talking about.

“Well, no, but we-”

Kobra cut Jet off. “I found his body.” He answered the question he could see in Pete's eyes. The other man stared only for a second, his worried look cracking into one of grief. It was painful to look at, and Kobra cringed a bit. Pete put his head in his hands, sighing upsettingly.

“I helped that guy escape the place we were held at... his name was Sean.”

“Sean,” Kobra muttered. He didn't know anyone with that name, killjoy or not.

“Um, should we...?” Party asked. Pete shook his head, gesturing his hand in a way that meant 'keep going'. He hesitated, but continued anyway. “Well, uh, a bunch of neutrals gave info to other killjoys, who then told Dr. D.”

“What info?” Kobra asked moving his eyes from Pete to his brother.

“Ya know, just small stuff. Strange activity, mostly.”

“But with all the different reports, we figured out around where those bitches might be,” Ghoul added quickly. “I mean, like, their base of operation, headquarters, whatever.”

Pete picked up his head, and glanced over at Andy, who looked right back at him. It was good news for all of them there, but especially for the two of them.

“Where?” Andy asked.

“Zone Four, we think,” Party replied.

“Zone Four!?” Pete nearly jumped out of his seat, and would've if Andy hadn't grabbed him. “That's ludicrously close!”

“I thought they would've been at least near Death Valley,” Kobra commented.

“If they were that close to Zone Seven, we would've known something was up long before we actually found out,” Ghoul said. “We know when things happen here.”

Silence, for the millionth time in that day, engulfed them. No one wanted to say another word. No one wanted to make anyone feel any worse than they already did. Kobra knew for a fact that that was stupid, because no one was going to start feeling better until the situation was resolved. Everyone would have to start feeling worse for that to happen, so that they could work up some more determination to get it over with quicker. They should just talk, carry on the conversation, but he wasn't going to start. The others had to do it.

“What're we gonna do?” Pete finally spoke up, muttering forlornly.

“Well,” Party started, taking up the mantel once again. It just took a little push to get him back in the game. “If we can find a way to scout the building without getting caught, we might be able to raid the place and get Patrick, then book it outta there.”

“There's no way we can do that,” Ghoul said cynically. “There's six of us, and who knows how many of those chicks, and they're all crazy and willing to murder us over nothing.”

The tiny bit of hope that had sparked in the two Young Bloods' eyes at the mention of knowing where their friend was flickered out. This time, Andy put his head in his hands. Pete just hung his head, looking lost.

“We'll figure something out,” Kobra said to them, his tone low, and determined. They had to.

 

~00000~

 

They had just been sitting around, doing virtually nothing for a while now. There was nothing else to do, really, when everyone was pissed the fuck off or on the verge of a breakdown. Their planning session on how to get Patrick back and those woman off of their game had turned into argument after argument, with Pete and Andy almost losing it, and Jet almost crying- an unusual sight- in an attempt to calm everyone down. Eventually, Party had stormed off to the kitchen to 'cool off', and everyone else had gone their own way.

That had been an hour ago. After that incident, Ghoul had been left to his own devices in a booth across the room from anybody else. No one wanted to talk to the guy who had pretty much started every single fight they had, at least not while he was still kinda angry at all of them. They just didn't get it, and they wouldn't let him get his point across, so his only choice had been to argue. This wasn't a situation where they could be optimistic. They had to be realistic, even if it hurt.

Having been left alone for the better part of two hours gave Ghoul time to think. He let his thoughts and questions drift lazily through his head as he chewed on some not particularly pleasing Power Pup, watching the two Young Bloods play cards with Kobra and Jet. It was a nice scene, something calm after tidal waves of anger and worry and very nearly panic, but Ghoul figured it was about time for the domestics to end. He took his feet off of the booth's cracked leather seat, dropping his spoon into the now empty dog food can on the table. The clattering rang out, but didn't call any attention.

“So how'd all this start, anyway?”

He spoke loud enough to be heard across the room, and hopefully even into the kitchen so Party knew to listen. All four heads at the other table turned to look him.

“How'd you guys get into all this shit? How'd it start?” He repeated. Kobra gave him a look that could kill, making a quick cutting motion around his throat. As if Ghoul was going to shut up, he wanted to- no, they needed to know.

After a moment of harsh glares from Kobra rivaled by Ghoul's passive aggressive eyebrow quirks and Jet's cringing looks between them, Pete sighed.

“We probably should tell them,” He said, receiving a nod of agreement from Andy. Jet and Kobra looked over at the two, their previous expressions turning to ones of surprise. Ghoul smirked at his success, but only for a second. He dropped the smug look, not wanting to seem too cocky.

“I was doing a bit of nighttime scavenging when this woman, a blonde lady, approached me with a suitcase,” Andy began. “She asked if I needed money, and when I said yes she told me she'd give me one-hundred fifty carbons if I brought it to another woman in zone one. I accepted it, of course, we could've used that kind of money. She showed me what was inside just so I wouldn't get curious. It was some sort of new-tech gun.”

“Andy brought it back to us,” Pete added. “Patrick decided he would bring it there, since he was least conspicuous, since he only had the one tattoo.”

“I dropped him off just outside of the town, and then...”

“Everything started going to shit.”

They were all silent, once again not knowing what to say. Ghoul was getting really sick of these random breaks in conversation. It's not like they really needed to absorb what was being said anymore. The weirdness had all gotten pretty straightforward once he was used to it happening.

Fortunately, Party had heard Ghoul's question, and broke through the silence with his own query.

“What kind of gun was in the 'case?” He asked, standing behind the diner counter.

“It looked pretty normal,” Pete said with a shrug. “A little more advanced than your average drac's gun. Figured it was probably a new prototype.”

That didn't make any sense. “If it's just a tiny improvement over the old models, then why are those chicks trying to kill you over it?” It looked everyone was just as confused as Ghoul was.

“Maybe...” Jet mused. “Maybe something's inside the gun, maybe that's what's important.”

“What could be so important that they'd torture and kill people for it?” Ghoul scoffed.

“Maybe there's some sort of information about the city stored inside of it,” Kobra suggested.

The idea seemed a little far off, but not far off enough for any of them to dismiss it. It grew quiet again, much to Ghoul's chagrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I lied about posting more chapters last week. Oh well.  
> I'm going to try to post a new chapter at least once a week, probably on Saturdays. I won't be posting any on the second week of March, though, as I'm going to be in Disney World with the marching band. We're preforming in the Magic Kingdom!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. More dramatic things are to come. Constructive criticism is always welcome.  
> -Mel


	29. To Get Him Back

Chapter 29: To Get Him Back

 

Kobra very carefully, very gently placed two more cards on the house, trying not to breathe as he did it. Balancing playing cards on top of each other was a difficult job, with the whole house being precarious. One tiny breath and the whole thing could collapse. Pete watched from across the table, just as entranced in watching it being built as Kobra was in building.

Picking up another card, Kobra slowly moved his hand to place it on top of the two triangles. The little pyramid was almost finished. He was about to put it down when the communicator went off, making him jump and drop the card in his hand. It knocked over the other cards, making them fall into a flat pile.

“Dude!” Pete whined.

With a shrug and a small shake of his head, Kobra got up and walked over to the counter, where the communicator still sat. He picked up the receiver, asking, “Who is this?”

“Hey, Kid, it's Show Pony.” The answer crackled.

“Hey, man, what's up?” Kobra greeted kindly, picking at some plastic sticking off the counter.

“We need you guys to come down to the station,” Pony said. His tone was different from its usual peppiness.

“Uh... I think me an' Ghoul could come down for a while, but everyone else is pretty busy.”

“No, no! We need all of you down here,” He insisted. “Even the Young Bloods.”

Kobra didn't reply. They needed all of them? It was sketchy, to say the least, especially with how nervous the always bright-and-happy Show Pony sounded. It was serious. Kobra called for his brother. The head of red hair popped out from the kitchen only seconds later.

“Party, something's wrong down at D's station,” He explained, putting a hand over the receiver. “Pony's on the other end, insisting that all of us, even Pete and Andy go down. It sounds serious.”

With only one blink of his eyes, Party reached out his hand. The younger man handed over the receiver without question.

“Pony, this is Party,” He said. “What's going on?”

“We just... need you down here, all of you, alright?”

Party paused, seeming to think, with his eyebrows furrowed and elbows leaned on the counter. “Okay,” He eventually answered. “We'll be there in a flash.”

The older man put the receiver down, and Kobra hit the button to end the call. He crossed his arms and turned around, knowing exactly what was about to happen. His hand itched at the thought of having to hold his gun at the ready.

“What was that about?” Pete asked.

Everyone was looking at the two of them. Andy and Jet from their table, Pete from his. Andy and Pete looked confused, concerned, even, but Jet just looked serious. Party sighed, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on as he headed towards the door.

“Looks like we're going to Dr. D's station.”

Kobra followed close behind his brother, glancing back to make sure the others were following. Oh, were things about to get worse again.

 

~00000~

 

Party pulled the trans am up to Dr. Death Defying's station, slamming on the breaks and putting the gears into park. The car was barely even off when he pushed open the driver's door and practically jumped to his feet, whipping his gun out and holding it ready to fire. A few yards away from them, closer to the old shack station was the blinding whiteness of a standard BLi cruiser.

He went around the front of the car, heading towards the missing front door. He took a quick glance back to see if everyone else was following. They all had their guns out, hardened seriousness covering their faces, ready to shoot at any draculoid or exterminator that might pop up. Andy and Pete stayed close behind them, as they were armsless. He hoped they were ready to duck and cover if a fire fight broke out.

Quiet and quick steps led Party into the front room of the station. He took glancing looks around the room dominated by Show Pony's décor, making sure their was no one to ambush them. With no one else there, he advanced into the backroom, where all the radio equipment and records sat.

A dreadfully familiar bald head stood with his back towards them, his terribly white standard issue gun pointed carefully at the side of Pony's head. Dr. D was watching from the corner, not moving an inch, fury burning in his features.

The exterminator turned around slowly, keeping the end of the barrel on Pony, positioning himself in such a well-trained way so that there was no way to attack him from the side. The grin plastered on his face sickened Party, disgusted him right down to the core. He wished he could puke all over his bland, pristine clothes. It might add some color.

“I see you're all finally here,” Korse said, speaking as though it were a casual conversation, a trivial one.

Ghoul took a step forward, going past Party and pointing his own gun at him. Party put his free hand on his shoulder, silently telling him not to shout. Ghoul growled.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The leader demanded.

“I'm here to make a deal.” He said it so smoothly, it only made the angry knots in Party's stomach twist up further.

“We'll never make a deal with you, asshole!” Ghoul barked.

“Why?” Party asked, ignoring Ghoul in favor of finding out what motives an exterminator could possibly have to make a deal with his sworn enemies.

He chuckled. “Don't you want Patrick back?”

Andy and Pete made it up to Ghoul's side. Party pushed in front of all three of them with a huff. They were pissed off, obviously, they all were. The mentioning of their friend had definitely pissed them off more. He took his hand off of Ghoul's shoulder and used it to hold Pete back. Korse smirked at them.

“That suitcase that you so graciously attempted to return to us for a few measly carbons contains information that could be used to tear down Better Living Industries and our city, and could potentially kill hundreds to thousands of innocent civilians in the process. If it is not returned into our custody, chaos far beyond your little fire fights and childish rebellions would ensue. Neither us nor you care for that.”

Party listened, and he listened closely. He watched Korse as he spoke, trying to determine whether or not the man was lying. His gaze unfaltering, he thought it over. Korse had no reason to be lying about this. If the women weren't truly a threat to them, then they wouldn't have bothered to send their top man out at all, they would've just let the women create chaos and kill the killjoys. Anyway, if he was here to kill them, he would've shot them all dead by now. Pony and Dr. D wouldn't have been alive for them to see at all.

Hesitating only for a moment, Party took his free hand off of Pete and gestured for the group to put their guns away. It was a second before he heard the clicks of holsters. His own gun remained on Korse, just in case.

“What're the details?” The rebel leader asked.

“I will help he get your so-called friend back, and ride of these women,” Korse began, pausing to glance at the Young Bloods, and then back to Party. “If you assist in leading me to the suitcase.”

“How can we be sure that you won't kill or capture us afterwards?” Jet piped up, asking politely. It was amazing how he managed it.

Korse scoffed. “That suitcase is far more important than a few desert rats.”

If they were rats, than he was a pig. Trading the life of a man for a stupid box with information stored in it was vulgar. The only reason he didn't spit on and shoot that shiny bald head was because thousands of lives, just as important as the one they were trying to save, could be taken.

“Alright, we'll do it,” He agreed darkly.

Korse grinned that disgusting grin once again, lowering his gun and putting it away at the same time as Party. Show Pony let out a relieved breath, one that he must have been holding in the entire time the gun was on his head. Dr. D looked significantly less pissed off.

Party looked over at Andy and Pete, his serious look unwavering.

“Only to get Patrick back.”

They both nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late. Sorry, I was busy working on a physics project over the weekend.   
> There won't be a chapter this weekend, as I'm going to be away in Florida, enjoying Disney and Universal Studios with my friends in marching band, and performing in a parade in the Magic Kingdom.  
> I have started work on that Sixteen Candles fic, but I'm going to take my time on writing it. I'm also going to start that private school au once I get back from Florida. Neither will be posted until I finish writing them, most likely. Could take a while.  
> I promise that I'll write two chapters of this for the week I get back to make up what I missed! -Mel


	30. Raid

Chapter 30: Raid pt. 1

Party bounced his leg impatiently. Everyone was getting antsy, growing sick of sitting squished together in the trans am. They all just wanted to jump up and run, shoot up some walls, and take back their friend. They could see the women's base, an ugly rusted-over warehouse, just a while beyond the oddly dense patch of cacti they were parked behind. The sight of it only made their impatience grow. Due to their deal with that dirty man Korse, they couldn't move until he sent the signal. It was taking a very, very long time for him to send the signal.

“Dude, stop it.”

“What?” Party asked, looking at Ghoul through the mirror.

“Stop bouncing your freaking leg.”

“Why?” He asked, confused. No one cared when he manifested his impatience in leg bouncing anywhere else.

“It's irritating!”

“You're shaking the whole car,” Kobra explained.

“Oh. Sorry.” He stopped. He could hear small breaths of relief from the back, to which he rolled his eyes. How else was he supposed to stay calm, especially with the heat adding on to his nerves? Party pulled at his shirt collar a little, and then started tapping his fingers on the door.

“For fuck's sake!” Ghoul yelled.

“Shut the fuck up, Ghoul!” Party shouted back, actually turning around to look at him. Both of them were sweaty and pissed off.

“You're not the only one who's annoyed!”

“And you're not the only one in the car!”

“Guys, chill out!” Pete said, leaning forward to put his hands between them.

“You can't chill out in a car this hot,” Andy said nonchalantly.

“That isn't funny.”

There was a pause, just for a moment. The irritated stare between the two 'joys was broken when Party shut his eyes, letting out a tiny chuckle at the idiotic pun. Ghoul started laughing lightly soon after, followed by everyone else in the cramped car.

Party glanced back up. “God, that was fucking stupid.”

Andy smiled proudly.

The laughter petered out, and everyone returned to staring out the windows, waiting for whatever the hell Korse's signal was supposed to be. It was completely ridiculous, making them wait this long. They didn't even know what the signal was going to be. For all they knew, he could've already sent it and they just missed it. If they had missed it, oh boy, would that be a mess. Korse might turn his back on their deal and arrest Patrick along with the rest of them if they missed the signal. He might do that anyway. He might just shoot them. No one truly knew how an exterminator thought, that's what made them so terrifying and such an awful enemy.

The radio began to crackle, cutting out whatever music had been quietly playing over it that they hadn't been listening to. Party looked down at it in surprise.

“Is it the signal?” Pete asked.

Party pushed open the driver's side door, getting out of the trans am. Precariously balancing himself by planting his feet on the seat and holding onto the roof, he looked over the top of the car at the warehouse. Squinting through the sun, he could see random people, all in BLi issue clothing, rushing inside. It looked like they were holding weapons, too.

“Dracs?” Kobra asked, getting out of the car along with the others.

“They're not wearing masks, though,” Jet said.

“Undercover dracs?”

“No,” Andy said. “Dracs don't go undercover.”

“Well, it looks like they do now.”

“C'mon.” Party hopped down from his perch, and slammed the door shut. “That was the signal.”

He started running. It didn't matter if running expended any energy, he didn't care. Once the adrenaline started flowing, he'd be fine.

He pulled out his gun long before he reached the warehouse. He only paused for a second, right outside the broken down front doors, giving the rest of the group a chance to catch up.

“Split up once we get inside, it'll be easier to find Patrick that way,” He ordered. One glance at Jet and a mutual nod teamed them up.

Not bothering to make sure the others had split up, since he knew they could handle themselves, he headed inside.

The chaos in the entrance lobby was ridiculous. Vicious women fighting against maskless draculoids, at each others throats with guns and knives and whatever else they could find to fight with. It was brutal, with no mercy coming from either side. It had barely been five minutes since the beginning of the raid, and blood was already splattered all across the old concrete floor.

Out of all the fights he had seen, this was the worst. What made it all the more disturbing was the fact that the dracs didn't have their masks on- they were people, not just faceless targets to be shot at when they attacked. Party faltered in his steps, staring at the insanity around him. Is this really what they had signed up for when they had made their deal with Korse? Was this what they should have been expecting when they had run away to the zones all those years ago? All out war, bloody and gruesome, over a suitcase and a single man? This wasn't what he wanted, not what he had thought they had been getting themselves into.

“Gerard!”

His name, his actual name, given to him at his birth. The hiss into his ear snapped him out of his terror. Jet had a hand on his shoulder, and was shaking him lightly.

“We gotta move, man!” His urgent tone was laced with concern.

“Right.”

Pushing the thoughts out of his mind and trying his hardest to ignore what he was seeing, Party maneuvered his way around the battle. Finding a doorway, they pushed right through it and shoved the doors shut again.

He sighed. “Here comes the fun part,” He muttered.

 

~00000~

 

Jet stayed close behind his friend, following him down the hallway, gun in his hand and ready to fire. The length of the hall was a bit disconcerting, but they were in an old BLi warehouse, notorious for their size. He wasn't even sure that BLi warehouses were supposed to have halls and rooms as numerous and lengthy as this one. If the women had built them up themselves, it was impressive. That was beside the point.

It was quiet. He could hear fighting in the distance, the yells and pained shrieks growing fainter the farther away they got. It was eerie, in all honestly. Walking down a long hallway lit with fluorescent lighting, strange noises coming from far away, doors that probably had monsters behind them. It was like something out of one of those old pre-war horror films he used to watch.

Even if the doors were creepy, window-less, and probably had something creepier behind them, they were still a bit of a relief. A hallway with no doors or windows would have been infinitely more disturbing. The thing was, the doors seemed pointless. Was there even anything behind them?

“Party,” Jet interrupted the quietness, keeping his voice low just to be safe. “Maybe there's something behind one of the doors. Something important, I mean.” They stopped walking.

Party's only answer was a thoughtful look and a nod of his head. Lowering his gun so it hung by his side, he checked one of the doors. He looked over at Jet, signaling that it was unlocked. Jet nodded in return. They both lifted their guns back up. A silent count to three and they were bursting into the room behind the door.

There was nothing in side. Nothing, as in no one. There were things, but no people, or even an animal that had strayed in or made its way through the ducts. The only living souls were the two intruding killjoys.

In the middle of the room was some sort of chair, kind of like the ones they had at the dentists, but it looked like it was able to recline. Next to it sat an odd machine, the likes of which he had never seen before. A small metal table was on the other side of the chair. Several scalpels of different sizes lay on it, as well as a butcher's knife, of all things. Everything was covered in dried blood.

Jet poked the medical instruments with the end of his gun, wondering what the hell had happened here. The scalpels, the knife, the chair, and floor all had blood on them. Long dried, probably from days or even weeks ago. The room still smelled pungently of iron, though, so days was more likely. There were no gloves or medicine bottles of any kind, so it wasn't the sight of an attempted and probably failed surgery. No, it seemed to be something more sinister than that. Things were becoming more and more like a horror movie.

“Jet.”

Jet's attention jumped to his friend. Party stood closer to one of the corners. He held up a pair of black framed glasses, the lenses on one side broken, the arm on the other bent.

“Didn't Patrick wear glasses like these?” He asked.

They were in a horror movie.

This was one of those times where the slightly creepy but otherwise decent place turned out to be a terrible place used to do terrible thing. Instead of human sacrifices, though, it was torture. Plain old gruesome torture. This was the room where they had cut off Patrick's hand. This was where they had cut into into his arm, through his muscles and his bone, causing who knows how much pain, just to separate him from a suitcase.

Looking again at his friend, he could tell he had come to the same realization. Party's expression of horror matched his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this only took twenty days to get out.   
> I tried to write before, but I've decided to work on my own time rather than getting one out on the same day every single week. I can promise, however, that I'll post at least one per week.  
> Disney was great, btw.  
> I'm really busy now, what with SATs coming up and school getting hectic and my birthday very soon, but I can try to get another chapter out by Saturday or Sunday. I want to write another chapter, since this one was going to be longer but I decided not to make so long, as to keep it somewhat consistent with the rest of the story.  
> Anyway, feedback would be fantastic! Thanks for sticking with the story!


	31. Raid pt. 2

Chapter 31: Raid pt. 2

Ghoul ran as fast as he possibly could down the hall, his feet slamming hard on the concrete floor. A glance over his shoulder revealed that the two women chasing him and Andy were holding weapons, the really scary kind that were impossible to describe from just one look. They were sharp, he could tell, and looked like they could hack off one of his limbs or his head in one good swing.

Slowing down only a little so that he wouldn't trip, Ghoul fired blindly over his shoulder. Six shots, and there was a yell, an almost inhuman shriek of pain. There was a thump, and the echoes of the steps was reduced to three sets of feet. Now it was two on one.

They rounded a corner, coming into another hall that had many more doors than the last one, but seemed to be shorter. Ghoul kept running, even though it looked like the hall was a dead end. They could deal with the woman when they found out if it was.

Andy stopped. He turned around, and launched himself in the opposite direction.

“Andy!” Ghoul yelped, freezing and turning. What the fuck was the fucking moron _doing_? “Fucking-”

Andy tackled the taller woman, using his shoulder and apparent strength to slam her into the nearest wall before she could fall over. Her back hit one of the doors, the knob hitting her square on the spine. She cried out in pain, dropping her weapon, but Andy didn't stop there. He punched her in the face, hard, causing her head to whip back and hit the door frame. She crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Fun Ghoul could only stare, completely shocked. His mouth hung open a bit, and the only noise he could manage to get out was a strangled sound that was probably meant to say 'shit'. He knew the guy was tough, it was obvious from how ripped he was, but he was so kind and good-natured that Ghoul would never had expected to see that kind of aggression from him.

Andy, panting a bit from the effort, looked at the other killjoy and shrugged. Without a word, he continued down the hall, at a much more leisurely pace. Ghoul shook his head, shrugged himself, and followed.

 

~00000~

 

Kobra made his steps as quiet as possible, but it was incredibly difficult to be silent in a vacant, echoing hallway. They had been down at least three others just like it. The sounds of fighting had long since faded away, leaving only the sounds of their feet tapping on the concrete floor and the rustling of their clothing.

Both of them were on high alert, ready to attack at any moment, but one look at Pete made Kobra feel bad. The guy looked so determined, like he needed to be, but at the same time there was the unmistakable look of rage, fury boiling just under the surface. His best friend had been kidnapped, he had been hurt, their shop had been burned down, and everything was just overall shitty. He had been through hell, of course he was pissed off.

Frowning, Kobra continued down the hall, gun at the ready, despite all of his concerns. His careful march was abruptly stopped by a hand grabbing his arm and holding it tight.

“Did you hear that?” Pete asked. The furious look disappeared and was replaced by mild alarm.

Kobra listened, keeping his head towards Pete and his gun held up. There were noises echoing from the end of the hall, distorted slightly by distance. Something like a yell, something else like a grunt. Fighting.

After a moment, the fighting noises stopped, and were replaced by footsteps. Kobra pressed himself against the nearest wall so that if any of those women came after them, they couldn't get him from behind. Pete saw and mimicked him.

They crept along the wall, finally managing to make their footsteps silent, until they got to a corner. Kobra turned so that Pete could see his face, and mouthed 'move on three'. He held up one finger, then another, and then the third, and they jumped out, pointing their guns at the two assailants.

It took a second before it registered that the people in front of them were Fun Ghoul Andy. They also had their guns up, faces steeled over in preparedness to fire.

Everyone blinked. Alert dropped along with arms, guns going back down to their sides.

“This place is a motherfucking maze,” Ghoul complained.

Andy wiped his forehead and Pete sighed, walking over to his friend. It was obvious now that they had all been extremely on edge, prepared for the absolute worst. Being around each other dropped that edge significantly, but not completely.

“Well,” Pete said. “What're we gonna do now? This labyrinth of a warehouse shoved us back together, so, like...” He trailed off, shrugging.

Kobra looked around. There was only one hall none of them had been down, the one branching off to the right. Barely any of the lights in it were turned on, casting it in darkness. It was impossible to see what was on the other end. He pointed.

“We head that way.”

They looked between each other, nervous glances. Kobra waited, for either a response or an action. Ghoul shrugged, shaking his head.

“What the fuck else can we do?”

The four of them headed down the darkened hallway.

 

~00000~

 

It was taking them far too long to find where ever they needed to be. Andy had a pretty good amount of patience, but after the last few days and with the urgency of the situation they were in, it was really starting to wear thin. There were too many halls and too many doors, and they just didn't have the time to be checking every single one.

He almost sighed with relief when they finally found a set of double doors, completely different from the others, but he remained quiet. Whatever was behind these doors, he had to be ready for it. He listened to Kobra, who had taken charge of the team in the absence of his brother.

“We'll break through the door,” Kobra said, formulating some sort of plan. “If anyone's behind it, we'll take them out. We'll split off into two's again if there's more than one room to search. If there's just another hallway behind this door, well, we'll keep walking. Got it?”

Nods. Kobra nodded in response, turning towards the double doors. Andy moved next to him. He only got a glance from the other man, no words. No words, and they kicked the doors open.

All heads turned towards the four men suddenly running into the room. It was barely a second before every women there had a weapon in her hand. Ten, maybe twelve of the women charged their way towards them.

Andy didn't hesitate to shoot. He couldn't tell if he had actually hit anyone, but he charged his way forward, anyway. Before he could see it coming, someone's fist hit him in the face, the same person's foot kicking his arm. His gun fell from his hand and went skittering across the floor.

“ _Shit_ ,” He hissed, ducking as another punch was aimed at him.

He grabbed the woman by the wrist, twisting it behind her back as harshly as he could, and then kicked her over. She tried getting onto her feet, but he stepped down on her back. He grabbed the nearest fallen item- some sort of hammer thing, and hit her upside the head with it. She finally stopped trying to get up.

It was terrible, it was the worst feeling in the world, having to fight anyone so barbarically. It was the thing he hated most about being a killjoy, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If he didn't want to die he was going to have to fight. He'd take awful remorse over the end of his life almost any day.

Andy rushed forward once again. He wasn't sure where he was going, and he had to figure it out. A quick glance around put another door in his eyesight. It was just up a flight of stairs, and there were windows next to it. A blonde woman, calm amid the chaos below her stood behind them.

“Pete!” Andy shouted, shoving another attacker away, swinging the hammer in partially-calculated movements. He pointed at the room the second he saw Pete's eyes.

Pete made his way over to him, dodging hits as he went. He stopped at Andy's side. The two fought off as many of the women as they could before bolting towards the stairs, and rushing up them. Andy didn't hesitate to slam his full weight into the door. It opened much more easily than it should have, as if they were expected. Or maybe that was just the adrenaline-induced paranoia telling him that.

The blonde woman from the window was sitting at a desk. When the two men stumbled in, she stood straight up and whipped out a sleek, white, obviously stolen draculoid gun at them, her chair falling backwards. Pete trained his own gun on her.

No one said a thing. Andy glanced around the room, keeping his attack-ready stance. There was nothing much. It just looked like a boring old office, except for the strange posters that seemed to be detailing some sort of plan on one of the far walls. The suitcase sat behind the desk, on a short filing cabinet. It was closed and in mostly pristine condition. The handcuffs still dangled off of the handle, one end of them caked in dried blood. Andy couldn't decide if he wanted to slug the woman who was most definitely the cause of all this, or if he wanted to throw up. It was probably a mixture of both.

“Are the 'Miss Love' those ladies kept referring to?” Pete asking, breaking the tense silence between them as the two inched closer into the room. Oddly enough, none of the hench-women had followed them up.

“That would be me. Courtney Love, at your service,” She said evenly.

Andy tightened his grip on the hammer. Courtney Love, if that was even her real name, wasn't nearly as disturbing in person as he had thought she would be. She was far to calm for someone who wasn't on BLi's drugs.

“Why are you doing this?” He demanded.

She smirked. “The suitcase has information in it. Vital information.”

“We know that,” Pete replied.

“I need this information to take down BLi. Isn't that what you want, little killjoys?” She was mocking them, trying to get a rise out of them so she had a reason to shoot. Her calmness was really beginning to become alarming.

“You didn't need to torture all of us to do that!” Pete said, straightening his arm so his gun was level with Love's chest. “We didn't do anything! Especially not Patrick!”

“You were in my way!” Love snapped viciously.

Her entire demeanor changed. The calm facade completely dropped, leaving behind an unbelievably angry woman, the kind who would do anything and kill anyone to get what she wanted. She seethed in her deep-seated hatred, taking in hissing breaths through her teeth, her body trembling, her finger one tiny twitch away from pulling the trigger and blowing out somebody's brains. It was the fastest change that Andy had ever seen, and it only went to show how unstable she had to be.

Someone tried to get through door. With a flash of panic and barely even a thought, Andy threw himself against it to keep it closed. If he hadn't broken the knob when he had broken in, the job would've been a lot easier. There was more than one person trying to bust the door down. He missed that single moment they hadn't been attacking them, he really did.

“They stole my Kurt!” Love shrieked, strangled sobs dabbling her words. “They completely destroyed his life, got him addicted to those _stupid_ drugs, drove him to suicide! They took him from me and our daughter!”

BLi had driven her husband to suicide. It absolutely was not the first time he had heard that story. It was so common, BLi taking away someone's life in some way or another. Most people either dealt with it in the city, or they left for the desert and dealt with it out there. This was the worst revenge scheme he had ever seen.

It was getting harder to hold the door closed. Andy kept pushing, but with nothing to dig his feet into for balance, he was starting to lose his grip. The door opened an inch. He tried to force it closed again, but the strength of one man against an entire army was useless.

“Pete, just grab the suitcase!” He yelled. The rest of the guys were getting Patrick, they had to be.

Pete ignored him. “BLi's taken someone from all of us, asshole! Just because you lost your husband, that doesn't give you the _fucking_ right to go around hurting and killing innocent people!”

“It was the only thing I could do.” She said it as though it were obvious, like they were idiots for not realizing it.

“Pete!” Andy shouted again.

He lost his stance, hitting the ground hard as several women pushed their way into the room, trampling him. He had to fight his way back up to his feet. He kept fighting, getting the women out of the way of the open door when he saw Pete holding the suitcase out of the corner of his eye.

He went flying down the stairs and through the large warehouse room, dodging nearly every hit that came his way and ignoring the ones that got him. Andy pushed his way out of the small office, following after him. He couldn't see Kobra Kid or Fun Ghoul anywhere, but he gave them the benefit of the doubt that they had found Patrick as well as a way out. Right now, he really only had space to worry about himself and Pete.

His feet were forced to stop when hands grabbed at him, snatching onto his arms, his torso, even his legs. A sharp, sudden, terrible pain made his breath catch in his throat. There was a knife in his neck. When it was ripped out, the hands let go.

He slammed his own hand over the wound, all other energy draining from his body as he started to feel the blood drip out. He collapsed, falling in a heap to the floor. He had been stabbed, they had stabbed in the fucking _neck_ , for fuck's sake. He was going to bleed out, wasn't he? He was going to die on a concrete fucking floor surrounded by people that didn't give a shit and would probably just toss his dead fucking body out into the sand and bury it.

But he wasn't dead yet, dammit! Using his free arm and pushing with his feet, Andy tried to crawl away, but the women who had grabbed him, the one who had stabbed him, started kicking. He stopped trying to move, his only focus becoming keeping his hand over his neck so he didn't bleed out right then and there.

Just barely, he could see someone familiar walking down through the chaos, with no one chasing after him. Patrick, it was Patrick, but at the same time, it wasn't. He was in that trance again, that's why no one was attacking. That's why he wasn't running.

“Pa... Patrick!” Andy strangled out the name.

Patrick froze. For a brief second, he stopped, his expression going blank and then turning into confusion. A yell, nearly a scream came down from the office they had just been in, and the expression immediately returned to one of anger, of rage. He yelled something back, and ran out of the room, in the same direction it looked like Pete had gone in.

Someone kicked Andy in the gut. The breath left his lungs, but at this point, he didn't even care. It was hopeless, just hopeless. They had tried, but his friend was gone. He stared at the spot Patrick had just been standing in, letting the exhaustion creep into his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion to the last chapter, but not the story! Ha ha, I don't even have the end of the story planned out yet, despite the fact that I've had everything else planned out for nearly two years. Oops! We'll get to that when we get to that.  
> Anyway, I'd just like to give you some updates on the other fics I'm "writing", the Sixteen Candles and the private school au ones. I haven't actually started writing them, because I'm really just trying to focus on finishing this fic and studying for school garbage, but I am planning them out. Once I finish this, I'll begin working properly on those two, but I probably won't post them until they're both completely finished and edited. It'll just make them all the better! I might also write some sort of Kingdom Hearts fic, and I have a side series of one shots planned from the private school au.  
> Thanks for sticking around and reading, guys! I really appreciate it!


	32. How It Happened

Chapter 32: How It Happened

Ghoul and Kobra ran right back out of the little back room, chasing after Patrick. They had found him tied to a chair in there, unresponsive to anything. The second they released his restraints, however, he had freaked out. They had tried to calm him down, but he was gone, in the way Andy and Pete had described them earlier, somehow hypnotized. What made it even stranger was the way his eyes glowed yellow.

A head of black hair ran through the doors they had originally come through, disappearing out of sight. It must have been Pete. Patrick ran after him, but froze when someone weakly called out his name.

Fun Ghoul followed the source of the shout with his eyes. They landed on Andy, laying almost helplessly on the floor and being attacked by surrounding women. Ignoring the fact that Patrick was running out of the room now, getting away, he darted over to Andy.

He shoved the women away harshly, pulling out his gun and pointing it at anyone that tried to get closer. There was blood leaking slowly through Andy's fingers, his hand pressed as firmly as he could get it over a wound on the neck. A stab wound, Ghoul figured. He swore, putting his own hand over his to add more pressure.

Kobra was there a second later, practically diving next to the two men, gun out and ready to fire at any second.

“Fuck,” Ghoul hissed under his breath. “What the fuck do we do now?”

“I don't know,” Kobra answered.

“Fuck!” He swore again, loudly.

The women were still trying to get closer. Ghoul snarled, firing his gun at them. Three of his shots landed in one woman's leg, shoulder, and arm. She fell to floor, crying out in pain, and the rest of them stopped trying to advance. They backed up a few feet. Looks like they were done fighting with tooth-and-nail.

There was a pat on his arm. Ghoul looked down at Andy, blood still sluggishly dripping out from between his fingers. He was trying to say something, struggling to articulate against the massive pain in his neck the wound and added pressure were causing him.

“We n-need to... find Pete,” He said. “Please, we-”

Ghoul cut him off harshly, irritated in the face of everything. “No. What we need to do is make sure you don't fucking die. Pete can handle himself.”

Andy furrowed his brow, annoyed and definitely wanting to persist that they go after Pete, because Pete was so, so important. Ghoul wasn't about to deal with an argument in the middle of the fucking crisis they were in, so he just pressed down harder on Andy's throat, his nose twitching in slight remorse when he grunted in pain.

“Put your guns down!” Someone ordered. A red-haired woman took two steps toward them, but Kobra turned and aimed his gun directly at her heart.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” He warned. “Unless you want to be riddled with bullet holes.”

She stopped in her tracks, but she didn't back up. She did glare at them, sneering like she had the upper-hand despite having a gun pointed at her heart. Kobra just had to pull the trigger and she'd be deader than dead. Of course, even if she were to die, they'd get taken down by the rest of the women. It was a bullshit situation.

Ghoul snarled at them. He wanted out. This was _not_ how he was going to die. He didn't even have his mask on.

“Let them go!” The suddenly shouted order echoed through the room, calling everyone's attention to a frazzled blonde woman at the top of a staircase. Her forehead was bleeding.

One of the younger women, barely even out of her teens, made the stupid decision to try and argue. It resulted in a barked 'shut up!' from the older blonde, and the younger turning bright red in embarrassment. The blonde was the one in charge, it seemed.

“They're useless to us!” She shouted, and then paused for an uncomfortable amount of time. She lowered her voice slightly, but kept it loud enough to be heard. “They can't cause anymore harm in their sorry state, Let 'em go.” She turned away, disappearing into a room.

There was hesitation. The youngest was the first to back off, obviously afraid of whatever the boss lady would do if she didn't follow orders. The rest of them, slowly but surely, backed away and returned to whatever their posts had been before.

Kobra moved, not lowering his weapon by much, over to Andy's other side. Ghoul holstered his gun and carefully took his hand off of Andy's hand.

“Keep you damn hand over the wound, and don't lessen the pressure,” He ordered.

The two men hefted the third to his feet. They half-dragged him out to the warehouse corridors as fast as they could manage to go. They didn't look back.

 

~000000~

 

Jet kicked aside an old can of food, one that probably should've been opened years ago. They were sifting through the rooms they had found, going one by one in an attempt to piece together whatever had happened to the Young Bloods in the warehouse. It could help them stop the madness. At least, that's what Party had figured.

They had already gone through the room Patrick had been in, where he had been tortured, had his hand cut off, all of that. Neither of them had really been able to stand being in there, so they had left. Party had held onto Patrick's glasses. After leaving there, they had found a room with polaroids of Pete on the floor. They didn't really question what that was about.

Now, the room they were in was covered in splotches of rotten food, old, unopened cans laying around. The women had a weird idea of what torture was, but it must have been pretty awful to get pelted with moldy fruit and metal cans.

The can Jet had kicked rolled across the concrete floor, lazily stopping only a few feet away. A yellow and black warning sticker now sat face up.

“Uh, Party,” Jet called to the man on the other side of the room.

“Yeah?” He was poking a tomato or something with his foot.

“This food is irradiated.”

Party let out a small yelp and kicked the tomato away. He hit the wall, splattering everywhere. He cringed, scurrying over to Jet.

“We should get out of h-”

Noises, shuffling and the vague sound of voices, interrupted him. Party's look of disgust faded and he headed towards the door with his gun out. Jet followed behind, doing the same. Without even a look between them, they jumped out of the room and poised themselves to fire.

It wasn't any of the women, or even a draculoid. Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid were dragging an injured Andy down the hallway. They holstered their guns.

“What happened?” Party asked.

“We'll tell you when we get to the fucking trans-am,” Ghoul said, snarling at no one in particular.

Andy had his hand pressed to his neck. Blood dripped from the cracks between his fingers. A neck wound, oh, those were some of the worst, and the hardest to treat.

“Fucking _move_!” Ghoul shouted.

Jet stopped wondering how he was going to properly treat a damn neck wound with the little medical supplies he had, just for the moment. He and Party quickly followed after Kobra, Ghoul, and Andy, flanking the back to make sure no one came from behind them. They made it out of the halls must faster than they had before, getting back to the main lobby in a matter of minutes. The lobby floor had dead and injured women and dracs covering too much of it. They ignored them and kept moving.

Once they were outside, Jet ran ahead of the group to the trans-am, jumping into the back and pulling out his emergency first-aid kit. He started sifting through it to find whatever he might need. The damn thing was a disorganized mess. Andy was pushed into the back seat along with Kobra a minute later. Ghoul and Party got into the front seats, and they drove off, fast like a rubberburner.

Not missing a beat, Jet pulled Andy's bloodied hand off of his neck, pressing a rag onto the wound to clear up as much blood as possible. A short look, on top of the fact that he wasn't dead yet, told him that the injury wasn't going to be too hard to treat.

“You're lucky,” Jet said, pulling out a needle and thread. “They missed your artery by about a centimeter. They did get some veins, but I can stitch those right up.”

He threaded the needle and started stitching up the skin without saying another word to Andy. It took him longer than he would've rathered, but with the car constantly jostling them, he had to be careful not to pierce any other part of the neck. Once he was finished, he washed off the area with a little bit of probably long expired rubbing alcohol and taped a bandage over it.

“There ya go! All done,” Jet said, a little more cheery than he needed to be. It made people more comfortable when their medic was in a good mood. He had learned to put on a face, at least for that.

“Thanks.” Andy forced a smile. It looked more like a grimace, but the message come across clearly enough.

There was, once again, silence, outside of the sounds of the car speeding back to the diner. It was becoming somewhat of a theme with them.

“So, uh,” Party muttered. He cleared his throat, speaking louder. “What happened?”

“One of those chicks stabbed Andy in the fucking _throat_ ,” Ghoul hissed.

“It wasn't the throat, just the neck,” Jet corrected.

“We were chasing Patrick,” Kobra added. “But we stopped to help Andy.”

“Pete got the suitcase,” Andy said, obviously exhausted. “He ran with it and Patrick chased him, I saw. Somebody yelled at him, that's the only reason he went running. I had gotten his attention.”

“Hey, hey, it's okay, calm down.” Jet rubbed the man's shoulder, and he nodded as he took a breath.

“Something was wrong with him. Like he was hypnotized, like Pete and Andy had said before,” Kobra continued.

So, what they had pieced together had been right. The confirmation was right there, along with that room with all the strange surgical equipment.

“We may have figured it out. They were trying to change him the way they change draculoids, ya know, like they're hypnotized, controlled or whatever. They wanted to make him into their own puppet, I think.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Uh...” Ghoul said, looking between Party in the drivers seat and Jet in the back. “How exactly did you guys figure _that_ out? Besides, like, Patrick being all weird.”

“We found a room.” Party got to the point before Jet had a chance to elaborate. “It had surgical tools, stuff like that. And we, uh, found this.”

His hand reached back, fingers wrapped around the glasses they had found, the cracks in the lenses visible. Andy gingerly reached a hand forward, taking the spectacles, staring at them.

“Those are Patrick's, right?” Jet asked carefully.

“...Yeah.”

He frowned at the sadness in Andy's voice. “Well, I had had my suspicions before, and I guess you did too since you don't seem too surprised, but now we know for sure that they were trying to brainwash him.”

“Obviously didn't do too good of a job of it,” Ghoul scoffed.

Andy took in a painfully shaky breath. “We have to find them, guys.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this out earlier this week, but I had teeth taken out and wasn't up to much. Anyway, here's chapter 32!
> 
> Personally, I don't think this one is my best work, but I'm not really upset about that. I write fanfiction as practice so I can get better at story writing, and sometimes my work won't always be as good as it could be, but it's okay since I'm always working to get better.
> 
> We're getting towards the end here. I don't really have the ending plotted out, so I can't give you a full estimate of how many more chapter there will be, but I can tell that I won't let it exceed 45, unless I add an epilogue.
> 
> Anyway, criticism is always welcome! I also have a question for you guys. About how many pages in a word document do you think would make a decent fanfic chapter? I was thinking between 7 and 10, maybe even up to 15. It's for my other fics, so that they don't have as many chapters.
> 
> -Mel
> 
> UPDATE(5/11/2016): Sorry for the delay! I promise I'm not going back on hiatus! It's just that it's the end of the school year, so teachers are really cracking down on work, so after school I have very little energy to actually go on my laptop and type anything unless I absolutely have to for school. I'm going to start writing on google docs instead of my laptop since then I can write on my phone, which means I can get chapters out more quickly. Next chapter won't be up for at least a week, though!


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